Head Heart & Soul
by shedoc
Summary: How can you defeat the Dark Lord with a power you don't understand? Harry finds out...[complete]
1. Harry's Head 1

Disclaimer: I guess I wasn't a good girl this year because I didn't get them for Christmas! JKR owns them not me sigh.

A/N - I know, the coming of age thing! Sometimes I say 16, sometimes I say 17. I know it's really 17 but sometimes I need them to be able to magic without getting in trouble. This time I can wait until they're 17.

Warnings - it's the good ship Harry Ron! Don't like it, don't read it! Also I may not update this every day (or second day) be patient, it's still in progress!

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Head Heart & Soul- by Shedoc

'And now for something completely different,' Harry mused as he scrubbed the last of the dishes from Aunt Petunias dinner party. The morning sunlight streamed into the kitchen, warming his skin, though he still felt cold. Nothing had seemed to warm him since Sirius…

Harry shook his head sternly and placed the last of the good dishes in the drying rack, putting the cutlery into the hot water to soak and turning to dry first his hands, then the good china. Since his return from Hogwarts his Aunt and Uncle had entertained nearly every single night. Dudley escaped into the neighbourhood of course, with his 'friends', vandalising whatever the council had managed to repair since their last spree and beating up small children for their pocket money so they could buy grog and smokes on the sly.

Harry escaped from the dinners too; he spent the evenings in his room making no noise and pretending not to exist. This time he had managed not to have any house elves visit him and levitate the pudding all over the unfortunate guests. Instead he spent the time curled up on his bed, reading through his schoolbooks and waiting for Hedwig to return from her evening flight.

She was free this summer, and a lot quieter as a result, which meant fewer rows with his Uncle. Since their return from Kings Cross, the Dursley's had for the most part ignored Harry, except to issue him with stern decrees about chores. The chores were all indoors, to keep them from Wizarding notice, and Uncle Vernon had stood over Harry every three days, breathing heavily while Harry wrote out the obligatory letter to the Order to reassure them he was still fine.

True, he had no energy, ate little and slept less, but no one was hurting him, so he wasn't lying or anything, and the funny thing was that he'd have said the same thing if Uncle Vernon stood over him or not. He knew better than to fuss over something that was deemed necessary, and after the Ministry any adult he might have complained to would surely be impatient with his whining now...

Harry put the dishes away and returned to the soaking cutlery. Every morning he would clear away the mess from last nights 'party' and clean the house up in preparation for the next. His Uncle had earned himself some kind of promotion at the company, and the new job apparently came with a new set of social acquaintances that had to be wined and dined and otherwise entertained. Of course the minute the guests were gone his aunt and uncle started critiquing their clothes and manners and conversations.

As Harry washed the knives his mind drifted over the nap he'd had last night. It couldn't really be called sleep - the shallow nightmare riddled period of unrest that he endured each evening was too brief to be called sleep. In it he'd dreamed once more of Sirius' death, followed by the old nightmares from the graveyard, where Cedric accused him of murder. He'd jerked himself out of that nightmare to one of Voldemort and his followers. Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange featured heavily, whispering about a spy to their master, and Nagini lurked at the edges, threatening to bite Harry with her sharp fangs. Harry was neither the evil wizard nor the snake, but an independent if intangible being, and couldn't tell if these were real visions, or just some weird thing that Voldemort was doing, trying to send Harry off the deep end.

He'd told the Headmaster at once, and had promised in the same letter to try to practice his negligible skills at Occlumency. It made his head hurt even more when he tried to practice the art that his Potions Master had drilled him in, as if the act itself was forcing something in him to act unnaturally, and Harry wished he could talk to his friends about it all.

Ron was in Egypt with Bill, working as a sort of apprentice curse breaker or something. He'd apparently set it up the moment he left the hospital wing, and because he was so far away it was hard for Hedwig to manage the flights. Pigwidgeon certainly couldn't and Ron wasn't likely to spend his hard earned money - he was apparently getting a stipend from Gringotts for his work this summer - in sending letters to Harry and Hermione.

Hermione was off visiting Muggle relatives for the summer to recover from the last of the curse that had hit her in the Ministry battle. Harry knew that he couldn't have Hedwig delivering letters to her either, and as a result he was desperately lonely. Ginny hadn't written to him, nor had any other Weasley after Ron's letter had arrived, and Harry felt their silence like a blow. He was in disgrace and he knew it; his propensity for playing the hero had put the two youngest Weasley's and the only Granger in severe danger.

Neville had written to him - much to Harry's surprise - and Harry had been glad for the short notes, even if all they discussed was Quidditch. He'd made sure to apologise to his housemate for leading him into such danger and thanked Neville properly for saving his life. Mrs Longbottom had sent him a short note, stating how proud she was of Neville and warning Harry not to do anything so foolish ever again. Harry had sent an equally short yet fervent reply promising not to. He made sure to tell Mrs Longbottom how Neville had saved his life, and apologise once more for his foolishness.

He would never again ignore the advice of clear-headed people, and he would certainly never allow his friends to follow him into danger. He'd stun them all and tie them up first.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Glancing at the clock, Harry noted that Dudley was right on time. His whale of a cousin came home at two am precisely each night. Harry listened for the little stagger that Dudley always made when starting to climb the stairs and shook his head. While he was familiar with the idea of underage drinking - he had shared a House with the Weasley twins after all, and what Hermione didn't know she couldn't hurt him for - Dudley was going to turn into an underage alcoholic if he wasn't careful. Not to mention the row there would be when his Aunt and Uncle found out.

Unsteady footsteps plodded their way to Dudley's room and the door banged shut loudly enough to make Uncle Vernon snort in his sleep. Hedwig took her head out from under her wing and glared in the direction of Dudley's room, before ruffling her feathers, shifting about irritably and going back to sleep. Harry grinned at the little performance fondly. There were times when she almost seemed to speak.

He sighed and put his book aside, too tired to read it, stretching out on his side and closing his eyes reluctantly. He'd already napped for an hour earlier, until his nightmares woke him. He wasn't looking forward to trying again. Over the last week the dreams or visions or whatever had become a lot more… real. It was harder to wake up, and harder to banish them from his mind. Voldemort was not a happy Dark Lord at the moment, which meant that his followers were getting quite a bit of punishment meted out to them with Harry a silent, horrified witness to it all. Even Death Eaters didn't deserve the stuff he'd seen this last week.

Sleep crept over him, and for a while Harry enjoyed a rather pleasant dream of flying on his broom. Ron was perched behind him, arms around his waist and leaning into his back. They were flying over a forest beneath a quarter moon, and the air was clean and crisp. The Dog Star was very bright on the horizon, and so was Mars. Harry was warm and Ron's breath tickled his neck as they flew in silence. Bits of him were very happy with this dream, which is why he got very annoyed when Ron took one arm away to point down at a house they were flying over.

"What's that?" the redheads voice was easy to hear over the slight rush of wind and when Harry looked down he recognised Riddle Mansion. He shook his head stubbornly and tried to direct the broom away from it, but Ron threw his weight off to the side and sent the broom into an uncontrolled dive straight for the front door.

Harry landed unexpectedly on the cold stone floor, his knees stinging from the impact. Death Eaters were in their usual circle around their self styled Dark Lord, who was pointing his wand at some poor man screaming and writhing on the floor. His scar ached dully, and Harry hauled himself up to his feet warily. Voldemort never seemed to notice him there, nor did any other Death Eater despite the fact that he'd kicked Lucius Malfoy in the bollocks pretty sharply the other night over what the man was suggesting about Sirius. He was sure that he heard Malfoy grunt in reaction, shifting in his place in the circle and drawing Voldemorts most unwanted attention. Harry had woken not long after that, gasping for air and shaking, sick to his stomach.

He looked around carefully now, relieved when whoever it was on the floor was given respite from the Cruciatus curse. All the usual people were in attendance, with Bellatrix Lestrange simpering at her Master in a truly sickening fashion. If she actually carried through with the flirting she sent Voldemort's way Harry had no idea, and no wish to find out. The knowledge would send him straight to the nut house, screaming all the way.

"Well, Severus the spy, what have you to say now?" Voldemort's words caught Harry's attention and his heart beat faster when he recognised the man huddled on the floor at Voldemort's feet. He'd always known that his Potions Master was a spy and that he risked a lot remaining in the ranks of the Death Eaters, but even their mutual hatred wasn't strong enough for Harry to want to see the man tortured.

"Master, I only spy for you," Snape gasped, his usually smooth, arrogant tones replaced with a weaker, pain filled whisper. Harry moved closer to him, stepping between him and Voldemort unconsciously.

"That is not what I am told, Severus," Voldemort hissed, "Several of my loyal Death Eaters have come to me with news of your actions. You are betraying us to that old fool of a Headmaster."

"My Lord…" Snape's words changed to agony filled screams as Voldemort once more cast the Cruciatus. Harry grit his teeth and grabbed for the wand, his hands passing through Voldemort's wrist and making the foul being twitch in surprise, breaking the curse for a moment.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort purred, "Persuade Severus to tell me the truth."

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed and pulled a wickedly sharp knife from her robes.

Harry lurched up in bed, his head swimming. He could still see the main room of the mansion, overlaid on his current surroundings like a ghostly image. He couldn't hear Snape screaming any more, but that was not really a bonus right now. What he could see was bad enough.

He flung his legs over the edge of the bed and lunged upright, grabbing his wand and glasses and pelting down the stairs. He couldn't go rushing off to rescue his Potions Master - he knew that he'd never manage to get through that many Death Eaters, and wasn't suicidal enough to entertain the notion of trying - but he could summon help from the Order. There was a guard outside right now, and Arabella Figg was still living just up the road. After last year he was sure that Dumbledore would have given her a way to contact the Order in times of emergency. At the very least his guard would have to reveal himself.

Harry slipped the front door open and scanned Privet Drive carefully. Nothing was out of place, and nothing moved. He stepped out onto the front step and took a deep breath, wand clutched openly in his hand. The thought that this was another trap by Voldemort had crossed his mind, though how the Dark Lord knew that Harry would react to seeing a much-loathed teacher being tortured was unclear.

He shook the thoughts from his head and began running, flinching away from Malfoy's form as the blonde man kicked Snape over and over, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Harry thought that both of his teachers legs were broken now, and it was decidedly unnerving to be running full pelt along a street and have part of the scenery stay with him as he moved.

Mrs Figg's house was dark, but Harry didn't hesitate, knocking loudly and ringing the front door bell insistently. He could hear harsh breathing behind him and hoped that it wasn't Mundungus Fletcher on night shift. They'd have to practically revive the rascal before he was in a fit state to help.

"What in the name of…Harry!" Mrs Figg wore a hideous paisley housecoat and clashing fluffy pink slippers, her hair a veritable rats nest. Harry pushed forward, apologising for his rudeness and waking her in a nervous rush even as he moved. Mrs Figg hesitated long enough for their unseen watcher to enter as well before shutting the door and leading the way down the hall a little.

"What are you doing Potter?" Mad Eye Moody's voice was exasperated, though the man didn't remove his cloak, "Running around at this time of the night."

"Mr Moody, you've got to warn the Headmaster! They've got Snape! They know he's a spy and they're hurting him right now!"

"Who?" Arabella asked and it was all Harry could do not to scream.

"The Death Eaters! Voldemort himself is torturing him! They're killing him!" he blurted and Moody growled under his breath.

"It's just a dream lad!" the disembodied voice held no conviction and Harry shook his head. He'd never had a waking dream in his life and had some vague idea that it wasn't possible for Voldemort to send him one without at least partially possessing him. This was not the case here; Harry wasn't in nearly enough pain.

"I can see it right now! I'm not asleep! Lestrange is cutting him with a knife and Malfoy and the others are taking turns to kick him," he almost shouted, "Mrs Figg, you've got to warn the Headmaster!"

"Alastor?" she asked uncertainly and Harry heard the invisible man sigh.

"We'll tell him that Snape has been compromised. He'll have to vacate Headquarters and pull our people out for now, in case Snape knew more than he was supposed to. Wouldn't surprise me if the slimy shite had been doing a bit of spying on his own behalf," the malice in Moody's tone chilled Harry to the bone. They couldn't abandon Snape to his fate, not after all he had done for the Order. Just because he wasn't a nice person didn't mean he didn't deserve their help now.

"But we have to get him out of there!" he protested, "Mrs Figg, please!"

"There's nothing I can do dear," Mrs Figg replied gently, "Perhaps you should go back to bed. Alastor, go in with him and make sure he's all right."

"No! You can't leave him there!" Harry yelled, his temper flaring high. Far off in the back of his mind, Harry noted that his fingers and toes were tingling, as if something big was about to happen. He pushed the distracting sensation aside; wanting to concentrate on making the adults rescue their spy.

"He's a Death Eater, lad, and no friend of yours by all accounts," Mad Eye replied, the malice even more pronounced, "He's getting no more than he deserves."

Harry's head spun. He couldn't believe that they would even think about this! He took a few steps closer to the huddled shape that was his Potions Master, wanting heart and soul to do _something_ for the man, _anything… _

There was a sharp crack, and Mrs Figgs hallway disappeared, replaced with the howling of the Death Eaters and the foul stench that was Voldemort's ancestral home. Harry stumbled forward and shoved Lestrange away from Snape, barely registering that the woman shrieked as she fell on her own knife, leaving a deep gash in her own arm. His scar flared with agony, but Harry ignored it, falling to his knees and putting his hands over the deepest wounds, tying to stop the blood that flowed sluggishly from the nearly dead man. A high-pitched voice was screaming orders, the words flowing over Harry like prickly cold water as he met the despairing dark eyes of his Potions Master. They were dead, both of them, they just hadn't stopped moving yet. No one was coming to help him, no one was going to save them, and Snape was dying of his injuries just as surely as Harry would die of the killing curse.

Harry bit his lip. He'd got his wish, someone had gone to Snape's aid, and it was going to kill them both. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, and cold hands closed around his shoulders. Harry flinched, and desperately closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them they would be safely at Hogwarts. No one would be able to hurt them if they were in Madam Pomfrey's care. The stones beneath his knees shifted and it got a lot quieter for a long moment. Then a woman shrieked in shock and the scent of home surrounded him moments before he blacked out.

0o0o0o0o0

If he had to spend time in the hospital wing, then Harry was at least grateful that the beds were soft and warm. He was curled comfortably on his side, and there was a weight in the middle of him, like someone was sitting in the curve his body made. It would have to be a small someone, and after a moment Harry decided it was a house elf. Madam Pomfrey probably had an elf watching him while she tended to Snape. Something about the way the air pressed onto his blankets convinced Harry that it was night.

That thought made him wonder how Snape was. He'd seen enough of the torture to know that Snape had a lot of healing to do, magic and potions aside, and wondered how much could be healed magically before the body stopped healing itself. He took the awareness that had alerted him to the presence of the house elf and extended it beyond his bed, beyond the privacy screens that had been set up three beds down where Madam Pomfrey was working. She was changing a bandage with the slow tender movements she used once her patients had been under her care for a while. Snape was ok, then, she wouldn't be taking her time like this if she were still trying to patch him together.

Harry extended his awareness a little more and felt pain that had been muted by potions and spells, as well as the restlessness that came with being confined when the person in question would rather be up and doing something, or at least anywhere but where he was. Snape's temper had not been improved by this little incident, and Harry made a mental note not to piss the man off in Potions - assuming he was accepted into the NEWT level course.

He withdrew his awareness with a sigh, feeling sleepy once more, but reluctant to give into the pull. He might have gotten away with no dreams while he was unconscious but he sure didn't want to risk a vision from Voldemort now, not when the Dark Lord was sure to be highly annoyed to put it mildly. The elf at his side patted his hip and Harry felt oddly soothed by the action. A wave of contentment washed over him and he slid willingly into sleep.

His next waking was to the warmth of daylight. The elf was still sitting in the curve of his body, and when he opened his eyes he saw that it was quite old - judging by the wrinkles and tufts of grey hair - and wearing a perfectly clean Hogwarts tea towel. It stared at him very solemnly with its big eyes and after a moment Harry stirred himself enough to take a deep breath. There had been no nightmares, and no visions, making this the best sleep Harry had in years. Literally.

"Hello Loola, I'm Harry," he introduced himself carefully, sensing that this elf was a Very Important Person, and that it was best to be polite. He was pretty sure they'd never met, but he was also pretty sure that he'd gotten the elf's name right. It seemed to be tied in with the way he'd been aware of Snape and Pomfrey earlier.

"Loola is pleased to meet young Harry," Loola seemed pleased with his manners, but before they could say and or do anything else another voice intruded. Harry wasn't too startled, he'd been well aware that the man was standing at the foot of his bed, even if he couldn't see that far without his glasses.

"Good morning Harry."

"Good morning Headmaster," Harry lifted his head a little to acknowledge the other man and Loola stood up.

"Loola will get Harry's breakfast," the elf announced and disappeared with a faint pop. Dumbledore came further up the bed, into Harry's visual range and Harry rolled onto his back and sat up carefully, feeling a little light headed. He was hungry, but that was always the case during summer. A pat to the bedside table located his glasses, and Harry put them on, bringing his surroundings into focus.

"I didn't know you had met the Head of the Hogwarts Elves, Harry," Dumbledore sat on a chair he conjured up and folded his hands in his lap neatly.

"Err… how is Snape?" Harry changed the subject, unable to explain how he'd known the elf's name. He wasn't too sure himself, it had just come to him out of the blue. Dumbledore smiled and for once didn't correct Harry for failing to call the Potions Master Professor.

"Much better," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little, "Madam Pomfrey is confident he will make a full recovery in time, and he has seen a Healer as well. You got him here just in time Harry."

"Good," Harry nodded. No one deserved that kind of torture. He looked up at the Headmaster, who seemed to be waiting for something.

"I don't know how I did it," Harry forestalled the inevitable question, "It's all kind of a blur."

"Perhaps you could talk me through the night," Dumbledore suggested just as Loola appeared with a tray for Harry. There was extra toast and tea on it, and Harry handed his Headmaster the cup and plate with a smile. Loola once more sat up on Harry's bed, this time balancing on the headboard so he sat at Harry's shoulder. The elf turned down Harry's offer of a part of the breakfast that had been laid out for him, and just sat quietly while Harry munched on his first slice of toast and thought about where to start.

"I've been having dreams still," he sighed in the end, "About Cedric and Sirius. And they turn into visions from Voldemort. Usually he's torturing someone for something, and my scar hurts while I watch. I know you're going to start telling me I should have been practicing the Occlumency, but no matter how hard I try it doesn't work ok? I'm too dense to get it."

Dumbledore eyed him carefully and decided not to push the issue right now. Harry was grateful - he didn't want to get into a huge shouting match right now. He sipped his pumpkin juice to clear his throat and sat back, fiddling with his fork in the eggs.

"It was different this time because I'm not… in Voldemort. I can walk around and look at things and Voldemort doesn't seem to know I'm there. Anyway the visions are getting pretty strong, and one night when Malfoy insulted… well you don't have to know that, but the point is I got so mad that I… erm… kicked him… in the privates. I didn't think it would connect, you see, I just got so mad at him. And I think he felt it, because he definitely reacted, though not as strongly as I thought he would because I kicked him really hard, which if we'd been in the same actual room they'd have lodged in his nostrils…"

Harry clamped his mouth shut and blushed, ducking his head and eating the cooling eggs quickly while Dumbledore chuckled and shifted on his chair. When Harry was sure that he wasn't going to die of embarrassment he cleared his mouth and started talking again.

"So… on the night in question I had a dream where I was flying on my broom, and well the short version is I ended up in Riddle's Mansion and they were torturing Snape. When I woke up I could still see it, like… like looking through a window that's got something painted on it to the view outside, only the painting moved. I couldn't hear things any more, but … I knew he needed help so I ran to Mrs Figgs house. I knew my guard would follow me there and we could warn the Order," Harry sighed and put his fork down, "Moody was going to warn you all right, but he wasn't going to help Snape. I got so mad at him, and while we were arguing I could see them breaking his legs and trying to kick his ribs in. I just wanted someone to help Snape and the next thing I knew I was there. It was bedlam, and he was dying and I was going to be next and I wished, really wished we were in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey and …pop!"

Harry shrugged and blushed a little, not sure how he'd done it, but sure that he'd just discovered another 'talent' that made him a great big freak. You couldn't Apparate into Hogwarts - the wards prevented it, and it was a fair bet that Voldemort had some pretty strong wards up too. Not to mention the fact that Harry didn't have the first idea of how to Apparate, nor if it was even possible to take another person with you when you did.

"It is not so difficult to explain," Loola spoke up before Dumbledore could, "Harry is doing elf magic."

"Pardon?" Harry blurted, and Loola beamed at him proudly. The gleam in the elf's eye was one of a grandfather with a particularly precocious grandchild, and it warmed a part of Harry that he hadn't realised felt cold.

"Harry Potter is a great wizard, and has learned to do elf magic," the old elf repeated, "Is simple!"

"Loola, I'm not sure…" Dumbledore interrupted cautiously, and Loola bristled. Harry could feel that the elf was angry that his employer doubted him after so many years of loyal service, and felt a bit indignant on the elf's behalf, though he kept that to himself for the time being.

"Harry Potter remembers the small table beside the kitchen door?"

Harry nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything. It was a funny spindle legged thing that was always polished to a high sheen and had a stack of tea towels sitting beneath it. Ever since Harry had started sneaking into the kitchens he'd wondered what something so old and delicate looking was doing in the solidly furnished kitchens.

"Put the tray there!" the elf ordered and Harry frowned, then looked down at his tray. He could see the table clearly in his minds eye, and pictured putting the tray on the table. There was a pop and it disappeared from in front of him. Loola patted his head proudly and folded his arms, glaring at the Headmaster in a very un-elf-like manner.

"When you is first waking two days ago Harry, Loola felt you use your magical sense to check on your teacher. Loola used elf magic to introduce his self to Harry, and Harry is using elf magic to move things!"

Dumbledore frowned in confusion, but to Harry it all suddenly made sense.

"It's to do with feelings and what we sense, isn't it? Elves use their sense of magic to discover what their masters want. I was trying to discover if Snape was alive so I stretched out my sense of magic to see how Madam Pomfrey and her patient felt. I was so mad when Moody refused to help Snape and really wished someone would go to help him that I ended up there instead, and once there I wished I was with Madam Pomfrey," he turned to look a the elf who nodded sharply and patted his head again.

"Well I suppose there's a first time for everything," the school Matron chuckled as she approached his bed and Harry chuckled at her, glad that she hadn't taken offence. He didn't like to be here because it meant that he or a friend had been ill. It was nothing personal.

"Loola will help Harry to master moving his self safely from place to place," Loola announced, "Loola doesn't think it will take long."

"Thanks, Loola. As soon as I'm allowed out of here I'll come to the kitchen," Harry glanced at the Headmaster who nodded approval, "This could really save my life."

"In fact it already has," Dumbledore murmured and both he and the elf left Harry to Madam Pomfrey's scrutiny.

0o0o0o0o0o0


	2. Harry's Head 2

A/N - thank you for the lovely comments, my reviewers! I hope this answers some of your questions!

0o0o0o0o0o0

In fact it only took Harry an hour of concentration to master teleporting himself and other objects accurately about the castle. It was a matter of visualising his objective clearly and then visualising success. Loola told Harry that the elves were very proud of him, though Harry wasn't too sure why, and added that Harry's visions would probably continue for some time.

"When you is able to feel as an elf does, that is a great gift and a burden, Harry," Loola muttered, patting Harry's leg, "You is always able to find the people that is important in life."

Harry thought it over as he walked up to the Headmasters office, which was his next destination for the day. Personal feelings aside, Snape was important in Harry's life due to his dual role of teacher and spy on their common enemy. Voldemort had shaped Harry's life since before he was born, which explained why the visions were still coming, and maybe why he'd been so bad at Occlumency against both Snape and Voldemort. House Elves couldn't block out the connection they felt to their masters - to their important people - and if Harry was inclined to house elf magic then it looked like he couldn't pick and choose what aspects he utilised.

The Headmaster said much the same thing, though Harry was quick to point out that he still should have tried harder to master the Occlumency. He apologised to the powerful wizard for his behaviour the last time they were together in this office, and accepted a lemon drop when Dumbledore forgave him.

"Headmaster, how did I manage to stumble on house elf magic?" Harry asked when the lemon drop was gone. Dumbledore twinkled at him, and Harry had the feeling that the man understood the real question he was asking.

"Not through any blood ties, Harry," Dumbledore confirmed his suspicion, "Once every thousand years or so, there comes a wizard or witch that is unique enough to master more than one way of thinking. I have noticed over the past five years that you are quite open-minded. Your likes and dislikes are formed through personal experience rather than impersonal prejudice, and you will at least try new things that other witches or wizards would not. What some would regard as ignorance or naivety is actually clarity of thought. Additionally, you don't differentiate between the magical races. Every one that you come in contact with is treated equally until they prove themselves to be unworthy of your regard."

Harry squirmed in embarrassment and made a mental note not to ask questions like that ever again. Dumbledore chuckled at his discomfort and took pity on him, changing the subject.

"The Ministry was unable to detect your use of magic, Harry, and I am pleased to inform you that you are not expelled. House elf magic is undetectable when used in the service of the elf's family. As you were using it on your own behalf it has gone unnoticed."

"Great," Harry relaxed his shoulders; sticking his hands in the pockets of the dressing gown that Madam Pomfrey had given him to walk around in. He'd left the Dursley's in his pyjamas, and it looked like he'd be going back that way too.

"I have taken the liberty of removing your things from the Dursley's Harry, and Hedwig has arrived in the owlrey. I realise that it is still very early in the summer, but I fear that there is no charm to protect you from Voldemort's wrath now. Your rescue of Severus has incensed him to the point of obsession. It is better to remove you to a safer location."

"Not Grimmauld Place," Harry pleaded and Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm afraid that Headquarters may well have been compromised. No, Harry, you will be staying here for the remainder of the summer. You will have full access to the grounds provided you are indoors by no later than eight in the evening. You may tell your friends that you have left the Dursley's but you must not at any time reveal in writing where you are or what you have done. Should the letter be intercepted…"

"Voldemort would come running," Harry nodded, "I promise."

Summer was looking up. He'd have access to the library, which meant he could read up for next year - contrary to popular belief he loved to learn but hated homework - and with access to the Quidditch pitch…

"Headmaster! Can I have my broom back?" Harry asked eagerly, and whooped with undisguised glee when the powerful wizard nodded in reply.

0o0o0o0o0

When Dumbledore had rescued Harry's things, he'd only taken what was easily seen to be Harry's. This meant that with the exception of the Weasley jumpers, Harry had nothing to wear aside from his school uniform. The clothes his Aunt and Uncle had given him were clearly too large for Harry's slender frame and Dumbledore had left them behind.

Harry wasn't too bothered. He wore the shirt and trousers of his uniform under his student robes, and left it at that. He ate his meals in the kitchens and took large stacks of books and parchment outside, sitting in the place where he'd mourned Sirius to study hard for the coming school year. If there were teachers in the school, Harry didn't come in contact with them, to the point that he'd duck down a side corridor every time he heard footsteps approaching. It was holidays for them too, and the last thing they needed was to be bothered with him.

As the middle of July approached, however, Professor McGonagall deliberately sought him out, waiting in the Gryffindor common room one morning to stop him on his way to breakfast. With school out she had changed her hairstyle, sweeping it back off her face but allowing it to flow unfettered down her back.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry smiled at her, and she raised an eyebrow at him in a friendly fashion.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," she nodded, "I have a request to make of you."

"Have I been in the way? Sorry Professor," Harry apologised worriedly. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he proved to be too much of a burden this holiday that he'd end up in Grimmauld Place, hence the invisible routine.

"Actually Mr Potter, we barely know you're here," she didn't sound too happy about that, to Harry's surprise, "I realise it can't be much fun, stuck here without your friends to talk to."

"Normal summer, then," Harry grinned, "I can't talk to them when I'm with the Dursley's either, and at least here I can get into the library or spend some time on my broom."

"True," her lips twitched in a little smile, "I'm pleased you're putting some effort into your studies. However, there was a reason I sought you out this morning. At this time of year, Professor Snape and I visit the Muggle born first years that have no magic folk nearby to explain about Hogwarts and the magical world. As Professor Snape is still too ill to travel, I was hoping that you would accompany me in his place."

"Erm," Harry gaped at her in astonishment, "You mean go to Muggle houses and explain about magic?"

"Yes," the Professor nodded, "Usually Severus and I Apparate from home to home, and I understand that you are also capable of travelling in a similar fashion. You would merely have to answer a few questions. Any demonstrations of magical ability I will take care of as you are still underage."

"I've only got my school uniform to wear, will that be all right?" Harry watched her frown in puzzlement and hastened to explain, "The Headmaster retrieved my things from the Dursley's, and I guess he didn't realise that Dudley's hand me downs were mine because he left them behind. That's why I'm wearing this."

He waved to the partial uniform he was wearing and the Professor's face cleared in understanding.

"Very well, full uniform will do," she nodded, "I want to leave in an hour. You will meet me in the foyer by the main doors then."

"Ok," Harry replied and hurried back upstairs to change. Today would be very interesting indeed. He'd always wondered how Hermione and Colin Creevey had been introduced to Hogwarts. Hagrid surely wouldn't have come to retrieve them as he had with Harry.

0o0o0o0o0

There were only eight families to visit, and Harry managed the trips by letting the Professor Apparate first and then picturing himself at her side. He arrived neatly each time, and was rewarded with a small smile of approval that made him feel ridiculously happy. Professor McGonagall was not given to undeserved praise or platitudes.

Each family reacted differently. Some of them were frankly disbelieving until McGonagall had turned some item of furniture into a pig or charmed knickknacks to walk around on their own. Harry remained quiet for the most part, answering what few questions he could in polite tones and otherwise letting his teacher handle things.

One or two families were a bit belligerent, but Harry's teacher always talked them into a better mood. She was quite charming on these visits and Harry did his best to match her manners, treating her like a lady and deferring to her preferences. By the end of each visit she had talked them around and made arrangements to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron the next week in order to assist them with the purchase of their school things.

The last visit was to a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere that reminded him of the Burrow a little. The family's name was Perkins, and Mr and Mrs Perkins were both ruddy complexioned and rough handed, used to working hard in the outdoors for their living. They were quite matter of fact about the letter that had been sent for their oldest son, and very curious about the school and how everything could be managed. Jim Perkins - the potential student - was out with a visiting cousin, and Harry wondered why his parents hadn't kept him in to meet one of his teachers until the kitchen door opened with a loud bang and a boy shouted for his mother from the kitchen.

"Mum! She fell in the pond!"

"Oh dear!" Mrs Perkins muttered, "Sorry about this. She's a bit of a city girl you see, her parents thought she needed a break."

Mrs Perkins jumped up to hurry out when the door opened and Jim entered - a mud splashed annoyed looking blonde boy - followed by a soaking wet Hermione Granger.

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall gasped, "What on earth!"

Before Hermione could do more than jump in surprise, Professor McGonagall had her wand out and had her dried off and cleaned up.

"Professor! What are you doing here? Has something happened?" Hermione didn't seem to notice Harry who was grinning at his rather dishevelled friend from his spot by the window. There had been a lot of mud dripping from her hair and some sort of waterweed draped over one shoulder. That had vanished with McGonagall's spell, but Hermione still looked a little worse for wear.

"I'm here to explain about Hogwarts to Mr and Mrs Perkins. Had I known you were here, I would have instructed them to talk to you," McGonagall replied, "Mr Potter and I are completing the home visits to the Muggle born families today."

"Mr Potter?" Hermione looked around, and Harry stepped forward a bit nervously. He'd sent a long letter to her at the beginning of the holidays, apologising for not listening to her advice, losing his temper and leading her into danger. She'd written back that she forgave him and that had been the last letter they'd exchanged. There had been no reply to his note telling her he'd left the Dursley's for the summer.

"Harry!" Hermione flung herself at him, hugging him tightly, and he hugged her back, rather glad that she didn't seem too upset with him if the strength of her grip was anything to judge by.

"Hullo Hermione," he rubbed her back idly, "How are your hols going?"

"Awful," Hermione sniffed, "Mum and Dad sent me out here to rest and of course I haven't been able to read any of my school books or anything, because Aunt May doesn't know about magic."

"She does now," Harry pointed out, "Your cousin got his letter for Hogwarts. He's starting first year."

"But why are you here?" Hermione stepped back, her hands clutching his arms, sharp eyes taking in the school uniform he wore.

"And why are you wearing a dress? What kind of poxy uniform is that?" Jim's voice spoke up. Harry blushed but laughed and pulled the student robes aside so Jim could see the uniform underneath. He couldn't tell Hermione where he was staying, so he had thought of a fairly decent cover lie that she would spot in an instant but accept until they were together again.

"It's a students robe, and Professor McGonagall took pity on me. There's nothing for me to do where I'm staying right now except read, and she thought that I might be useful today on her visits," he gave his friend a significant look, and was relieved when understanding shone in her eyes and she nodded briskly.

"As for 'poxy'," the old Prefect's tone in Hermione's voice was a welcome one to Harry's ears and a new one to her cousin, "Harry happens to be wearing the colours of Gryffindor House, and there's nothing poxy about them at all!"

"Hermione's a prefect in our year," Harry boasted lightly, rubbing her arm, "And Professor McGonagall is our Head of House."

The words seemed to recall their teacher to the purpose of their visit and she returned to her seat, resuming her interview. Hermione joined Harry by the window silently, and they stood with an arm around each other. He hadn't been able to just stand or sit with Hermione for ages, at school they were too busy and usually during holidays they only had a short amount of time when it was just the three of them. Harry had always counted himself lucky that he could sit with Ron and Hermione in silence and be totally comfortable. Silence at the Dursley's was forced and unnatural. Jim went to sit with his parents, and when the interview was over Harry followed Professor McGonagall out of the house and down the lane until they were out of sight of Hermione and her relatives.

"We've got one more stop, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall informed him, "Follow me please."

Harry nodded and she popped away. He wondered where else they were going as they'd visited all the people she'd said they were going to see. He reappeared beside his teacher in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley.

"Professor? Why are we here?" he asked curiously.

"The Ministry sends advance notice to the school each year of the students OWL and NEWT results," she informed him, "I thought it might be best to get your school things now. First stop - Gringotts, and then Madame Malkins."

Harry followed in her wake, wondering if he was going to be told what his OWL results were, or if he'd have to wait like the rest of the students. As it was so late in the day, the Alley was half empty, and Harry realised they'd have to be quick if they wanted to get around all of the shops in time. Gringotts didn't take long, with Harry making a hurried withdrawal, though he was rather intrigued at all the faintly written words he noticed all over the bank. It looked like Muggle graffiti artists had gotten in, only he knew that was impossible.

He asked for the usual students robes at Madam Malkins, and then Professor McGonagall got a hold of his arm and made him pick out several sets of Wizarding clothes. Each set consisted of a shirt, trousers, waistcoat and over robes, a bit similar to Mr Weasley's style of clothes, though not in the same colours and plain rather than patterned, and she even had him pick out new school shoes and a pair of boots. Harry had bought a few of the Muggle pieces as well, not wanting to give up the comfort of familiarity. She confiscated all the bags the moment Madam Malkin put them on the counter, and marched him off to the apothecary, followed by Flourish and Blotts. Harry bought himself a few extra books in there while his Professor secured his schoolbooks. They had a rather heated argument over who would carry the bags, and in the end Harry pulled her into a protected corner of the store and sent the lot to sit on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm.

He replenished his stores of parchment, ink and quills and made a short stop for treats for Hedwig before following his teacher back to place where they'd arrived and watching her Apparate back to Hogsmede before following her home.

0o0o0o0o0

Harry was not so delighted to see that he'd passed all the OWLs he needed with the right marks to continue in the classes to become an Auror. The not so delight came from the knowledge that he'd be stuck with Snape for at least another two years, and given that the man now had a target painted on his back after being caught by the Death Eaters, the next two years were not looking too bright. Snape's temper had already been foul - it was sure to be worse now.

After his stint at the home visits and surprise shopping trip, Harry hadn't seen anyone until the next Saturday, when McGonagall asked him to help with the trip to Diagon Alley. The Muggles were to make their own way to the Leaky Cauldron, which they'd been given the address of with the understanding that their children would have to actually get them in. Harry had worn a set of new robes for the occasion, much to McGonagall's approval, and had enjoyed watching the Muggles and their children experience the magical world together for the first time. He envied these kids a bit for their family's acceptance of them, but made sure not to let on to anyone. He didn't want pity, and wasn't looking for attention.

The trip went off without a hitch, though a second visit would be needed for the book lists, which weren't out yet, and Harry planned to once more retreat to his routine of study and flying breaks. He had managed to find a very useful book that listed in great detail various potions ingredients, their properties and common reactions and uses. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were the main borrowers of this book and Harry had sent Hedwig to Flourish and Blotts with an order for a copy of his own. He and Ron would need all the help they could get to cope with NEWT level potions, and this book had already cleared up a lot of Harry's confusion. He never doubted for a second that his friend would get the marks he needed to pursue his ambition.

The thought of Ron was a bittersweet one. His friend was still in Egypt, and now that Harry couldn't even write about where he was and what he was doing, their notes to each other had gone from sporadic to non-existent. He'd sent similar letters to Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville that he'd sent to Hermione, and only Neville had replied. Luna was off travelling with her dad, he remembered, and Ginny had never been in the habit of writing letters to him anyway, though her silence worried him.

He didn't have time to brood about any of this however, because on the Sunday night after the trip to Diagon Alley with the Muggles, there was a letter from the Headmaster waiting on his pillow, instructing him to come to the staff room at nine o'clock the next morning. Harry was so busy wondering why he was to meet the Headmaster there, instead of in his office, that the lack of communication from his friends went right out of his head.

The two gargoyles stayed silent when he approached the staff room door this time, which swung open before he could knock. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, remembering the last time he had been in here so had the Boggart Snape-in-a-dress . The memory cheered him up a bit and he glanced over at the wardrobe fondly.

"Ah, Mr Potter," Professor Spout spoke up from beside the urn. She had a steaming cup in one hand and a bundle of books in the other, "Right on time as always! In you go, through there."

Harry looked at the door she had jerked her head at and nodded, crossing the room and entering the side chamber where the teachers obviously held their meetings. Where the staff room was full of mismatched furniture, a kitchen corner and several untidily stuffed bookshelves and cupboards, the meeting room was quite different. All the armchairs matched, and were ranged in a sort of oval shape with small tables beside them. There was a low, long table in the centre with parchments, quills and ink, and one wall was taken up with a great big notice board that had the timetable for every single year and teacher on it in a rather complicated looking diagram, with the Quidditch pitch bookings and matches tacked on at the bottom.

"Well sit down Potter," Snape's voice snapped him back to reality, and Harry blushed, stepping out of Professor Sprout's way as she entered with her tea and taking the last empty chair between Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick. All the teachers were there, even Professor Binns and a new woman that Harry didn't recognise. Snape was sitting stiffly, one leg stretched out on a footstool with a knobbly looking cane propped beside his chair. Harry hoped that cane wouldn't be used to prod students or he'd be feeling a lot of it, and looked around some more, spotting Trelawney beside McGonagall, peering about her with slightly reddened eyes. The Headmaster cleared his throat and the few teachers that had been talking quietened down. Hagrid was sitting in the corner next to Madam Hooch and Firenze, he waved as Harry came in and beamed proudly at him but didn't interrupt his conversation. It was obviously a full staff meeting and Harry wondered why in Merlin's name he'd been invited.

"Welcome back everyone," Dumbledore beamed, "It's good to see you all again after such a trying year."

"Which we hopefully won't have to live through again," Madam Pomfrey muttered.

"Indeed we won't Poppy. I have managed to secure for us a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, ensuring that the Minister does not have to go through the trouble of appointing one, and Fudge has been pressured in reversing the Educational Decrees that were passed last year," he reassured her, and she harrumphed under her breath, folding her arms sceptically.

Harry sat back and listened as the teachers settled to their meeting. Away from their students, they were quite relaxed. Professor McGonagall proved to have a sarcastic wit that rivalled Snape, and Flitwick was the master of brilliant quips. Harry had a hard time staying quiet, afraid that if he laughed he'd be kicked out when they realised he was there. It was fascinating to see which teachers got along and which didn't.

Harry was startled to find that the morning passed quickly, until all that remained to be discussed was the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

"Amelia Heggerty will be teaching Defence," Dumbledore introduced her, and was promptly interrupted.

"I'll be teaching the teens defence," she clarified, "As in thir_teen_ and older."

"I knew it was too good to be true," Sinistra muttered darkly, "And what about our eleven and twelve year olds? How are they supposed to learn?"

"Mr Potter will be teaching them."

The silence after the Headmasters statement made Harry's ears hurt.

"I beg your pardon?" he blurted finally, "Me? I'm not a teacher!"

"The members of the DA might think otherwise," Dumbledore pointed out. Harry opened his mouth to explain why that assumption was so wrong it wasn't funny when his teachers saved him the trouble.

"The Ministry will never allow it!" Madam Hooch spoke up, "No offence, Potter, but he's just a boy!"

"A boy that has taken on a man's burden," Hagrid interrupted, "Everything seems to happen to Harry."

"That's no reason to burden him further," Madam Pomfrey spoke up and Harry sighed. The vote of confidence from the headmaster had been nice while it lasted.

"Come now, Poppy. You've often urged us to tell the boy more than we have," Professor McGonagall spoke up, "Besides, I took him with me for a trial during the Muggle home visits and he did extremely well."

"The fact remains that the Ministry will not allow it," Madam Hooch reiterated, "Albus, you don't want to risk another breach with the Ministry so soon after the last idiot they foisted on us!"

"It has long been in the school by-laws that the school may take an apprentice that shows an unusual level of skill," Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet them, "And although it has been nearly a hundred years since the last apprentice was taken, there is nothing to prevent us from reviving the practice."

"A hundred years!" Professor Trelawney frowned, her usual mystic tones sharply absent, "Who on earth remembers that far back?"

"I do," Dumbledore said simply, and Harry had another flash of insight. These were coming more and more frequently since he'd started increasing his use of elf magic. Loola had given him quite a few handy little pointers over the last few weeks, popping up at odd times for a quick lesson and then disappearing again.

"You were the apprentice," he blurted and Dumbledore nodded simply, silencing the dissenters.

"Before you get too excited Potter, the schools apprentice is at the beck and call of the teachers. Your duties will consist of whatever tasks the teachers deem fit for you," Snape drawled from where he sat and Harry knew he didn't have to be a Seer to foresee a lot of cleaning in his future.

"Ordinarily, Severus you would be correct," his Head of House intervened, "However in light of Harry's status as a student, certain of the traditional duties will be suspended. The apprentice usually teaches the lowest years in a particular course, marks their assignments and exams and sits one session of prep with them per week, per year level. Harry will be excused from assisting the other teachers with their workloads in order to allow him time to attend his own classes and complete his own work."

"Who would he be apprenticed to? I certainly don't want him," Professor Heggerty spoke up lazily, and Harry blushed. He didn't want to be anyone's favourite, but the cold dismissal of this woman before she even knew him did sting a little.

"I'll have him," Professor McGonagall said, "He's already in my care as a student of my House."

"Well, Potter? You haven't even accepted yet, or are you holding out for better conditions?" Snape snarked from his corner and Harry took a deep breath.

"It would be an honour," he said quietly, and Professor Sprout leaned over and hugged him, muttering 'welcome aboard' in his ear while Snape sneered from his armchair and McGonagall smiled primly and held out a small pin with an 'A' woven into the school crest.

0o0o0o0o0


	3. Harry's Head 3

0o0o0o0o0

Harry's Head - 3

It turned out that Heggerty wanted new rooms down in the dungeons, which left the rooms that Harry was familiar with on the ground floor for his use. Suddenly he had an office and a budget and a clock like Mrs Weasley's and a stack of books to go through to approve for the first and second year defence books. He thought about writing to Remus for his help (and lesson plans) but in the end decided not to. It seemed too much like cheating at his task, something he was sure Snape was waiting for him to do. After careful consideration, three of the suggested books were handed back to Madam Pince immediately as too theoretical, and a fourth went back as too practical. If he was going to teach defence to young people he needed something that was balanced.

In the end he settled on a set of books that could be easily split into first, second and even third year levels. They were sold as a boxed set, and Harry decided that setting the same text for both years would allow him to cater to three levels of ability in each class, from the hopelessly inept to the advanced. He was really hoping not to have to cope with the Weasley twins reincarnated, and after some thought he wasn't looking forward to meeting the newest version of Hermione either.

Once the books were settled on and Professor McGonagall had added them to the booklist that would go out, Harry sat down with his set of three books to go through them carefully, deciding what he would cover explicitly and what he would set for homework. They rapidly became dog-eared and bristled with bookmarks as he pored over them. He wanted to cover a mixture of magical defence and theory, as well as some of the Dark creatures and plants that his students might encounter. His Head of House showed him the ledger that all the Hogwarts teachers had, which kept track of students' assignments and marks, as well as containing the student roll and the teachers lesson plans. It was charmed to be tamper proof and illegible to students, and between the ledger and his own notes Harry was feeling pretty confident by the end of August. Professor McGonagall had read his plans over and approved them, handing the ledger back with a copy of Harry's new timetable affixed to the front page. The ledger would stay in his new office at all times, but having advance warning of his daily schedule was both comforting and stressful.

In order to manage the teaching load, Harry had dropped Divination and History of Magic - not that his marks were any good in either of them, as well as dropping Astronomy. In addition, there were two afternoons a week that were blocked out for prep time - one for each year level. There was a third afternoon blocked out for marking, and Harry was beginning to think he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Two afternoons a week plus whatever time he could find on the weekend was going to make homework very difficult unless he got even more organised than Hermione. He didn't even want to think about fitting Quidditch into that schedule just yet. Maybe Hermione could come up with a plan for him.

He would stay in Gryffindor tower with his Housemates and as far as Harry knew there would be no grand announcement of his new status. He was allowed to remove points from any student that was misbehaving and assign detentions, though Snape had cornered him and made it perfectly clear that he would be monitoring Harry's use of this particular privilege very closely. As tempting as it was to take his frustrations with Malfoy out on the House of the Snake, Harry knew that to do so would only make Snape retaliate, and he had a lot more experience with making students lives miserable. Not that Harry wanted to make anyone miserable… thoughts like that made his head hurt and he sighed, pushing them away.

His birthday had gone unremarked this year. Not that he expected anything from the teachers, and he knew his friends didn't know where he was either. He'd marked the day himself by adding the Weasley's and Hermione to the clock in his office. His name had already been on one of the hands and it wasn't hard to figure out how to add more using the elf magic that Loola still instructed him in from time to time. The few leisure hours he had found him flying in daylight, and reading at night.

He'd gone through his schoolbooks for the coming year carefully, and had picked up a book on Arithmancy by accident when browsing in the library. It had been a beginner's text and Harry had gotten hooked, finally understanding why Hermione was so fascinated with the study in their fourth year. When he woke from yet another bad dream or painful vision, Harry found that studying the Arithmancy of the spells he'd already learnt steadied his nerves and helped him shake it off. No further mention had been made of Occlumency, and Harry was relieved. He really didn't want to go through all that again and Voldemort seemed to have forgotten their connection.

"Here they come, Mr Potter," Professor Sprout beamed from her place on the front steps of the school, recalling him from his musings, and a moment later Harry heard the sound of the carriages. He straightened his student robes and moved to stand beside the Head of Hufflepuff. People would have noticed his absence from the train and there was no point in concealing his presence at the school.

"You know Mr Potter, when Albus was the schools apprentice, he had entered his seventh already. He was highly skilled in transfiguration and defence and the first apprentice that was also a student. As far as I know you are the youngest apprentice we've ever had."

If this speech was supposed to make him feel better, it was failing dismally. Sprout must have read his thoughts because she chuckled and patted him on the shoulder heartily. The first carriage cleared the gate and the thestral pulling it tossed its head as it trotted up the gravel drive.

"Buck up, young man. You'll be just fine. Dumbledore wasn't the one who suggested the apprenticeship, and nor was he the one who seconded it. Filius and I think you'll do just fine, and Minerva is over the moon about it," Sprout smiled, "Even Severus barely objected, though I think he was looking forward to having his dungeons scrubbed."

"Thanks," oddly enough the knowledge that two teachers that had nothing to do with his House or his guardianship had suggested his apprenticeship made Harry feel a lot better. Favouritism was fickle, look at the way the Ministry had been treating him, but honest regard was hard to earn. He'd never be a top-flight herbologist or charms master, but he'd always worked hard for his marks in those subjects and it looked like the professors had noticed.

The carriages were pulling up and Harry watched anxiously for a glimpse of his friends. He heard Hermione coming before he saw her and hugged her wholeheartedly, not minding the tight grip or mouthful of hair that he got as a result.

"All right Harry?" Ron's hand thumped his shoulder carelessly and Harry cleared his mouth to grin and reply. Ron was lightly tanned and very fit looking. It made Harry glad for concealing student robes. Ron was interested in being his friend, and nothing more. If he was honest with himself, Harry knew Ron had more of a thing for Hermione than him.

"Yeah. How was Egypt?"

"Brilliant," Ron sounded happy, "I've got loads to tell you."

"I've got loads to tell the both of you as well. Tonight, after the feast, ok?" Harry peeled Hermione off him, the badge in his pocket suddenly heavy.

0o0o0o0o0

The Great Hall buzzed with talk and Hermione spotted Professor Heggerty in her seat immediately. She did not improve upon acquaintance, which wasn't doing her any favours with the Heads of Houses. The woman was abrasive and stubborn, which made Harry think that she wouldn't be someone to cross during lessons. Heggerty was wearing dark blue robes with silver threads woven through them, and Ron whistled quietly when Hermione pointed her out.

"That's Professor Heggerty, she's teaching Defence this year," Harry whispered to them both. Ron looked startled but Hermione beamed.

"I knew it! You _were_ here all summer!" she crowed quietly, "That's why you couldn't write to us! The mail is still being watched!"

"Shh," Harry cautioned her, "Look, wait until after the feast, ok? Do you two have prefect duties straight away?"

"No, it's the fifth and seventh years that do the introductions. Sixth years take third year prep on Mondays," Hermione replied briskly, and Harry nodded. He also had prep then, and on the Tuesday following it as well. Friday was marking day, which left Wednesday and Thursday free. His eyes drifted to Ron again and this time he noticed the small badge beside Ron's prefect pin.

"You made team captain?" he asked the redhead, stunned. Ron flushed and nodded. Harry felt another grin creeping over his face but he didn't have time to do more than slap Ron on the back before Professor Snape limped in, leading the first years. Immediately the Slytherins started whispering and pointing, a reaction that Hermione misunderstood.

"How anyone can be worried about that slimy…mmmph," she glared at Harry who had a hand over her mouth.

"That's part of what I have to tell you," he whispered, "Shh."

He took his hand away before she could bite him and rolled his eyes at Ron when she huffed and turned a shoulder to him. Ron frowned a little - probably confused about why Harry was defending a teacher he hated - but turned to look at the Sorting Hat as it began to sing.

"That was short and to the point," Ron muttered gratefully as they all clapped minutes later, "The sooner we can get this over with the sooner we can eat."

Some things never changed, and Harry grinned in agreement. He hadn't even had the benefit of the sweet trolley today, too busy ensuring that everything he'd need this term was in the classroom and ready to go. Hagrid had been delighted that Harry was branching into magical creatures and had supplied several as well as advice on their care and feeding, and Professor Sprout had given him several cuttings from her greenhouse which he'd nurtured carefully into small, manageable potted plants.

The Headmaster stood for his usual start of year speech, but before he could open his mouth several students started clapping enthusiastically, and the next thing people were jumping to their feet and cheering. Even the Slytherins were clapping for the most part, and Dumbledore had to take a moment to calm them all down. When things had quietened again Harry caught his friends eyes and they beat their Headmaster to it.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" Hermione, Ron and Harry chorused as the beaming wizard opened his mouth and there was a moment of general hilarity. Even the teachers were smiling.

"Thank you, I believe that's my line," the Headmaster chuckled, "As are these…"

"Let the feast begin!" Hufflepuff got into the act, chanting along with Dumbledore and food blossomed onto the tables. People laughed again as the first years looked around in confusion and started helping themselves to food as the Headmaster resumed his seat. Professor Sprout was beaming at her House, and Harry passed the mash to Hermione automatically while waiting for Ron to be finished with the chicken legs.

When the last of dessert had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood once more and pinned them with a mock glare. No one opened their mouths, letting the Headmaster have his say unimpeded.

"There are a few start of term notices I would like to give," he announced, and Harry was tempted but decided not to push his luck, "A reminder to all students that the Forbidden Forrest is out of bounds to all students with no exceptions. Our caretaker Mr Filch has a full list of banned items attached to his office door, and has asked me to remind you all that magic is forbidden in the corridors. We have a new member of staff this year, taking the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Heggerty."

There was a polite yet reserved round of applause and Harry could see people whispering in clumps as they speculated on the new teachers status - evil witch, or hopeless incompetent. Harry wasn't sure either, as he'd never seen her teach and she was decidedly uninterested in the person who would be training her future students in preliminary defence skills.

"It is my pleasure to announce that the Educational Decrees of last year have been overturned, and the Inquisitorial Squad disbanded," Dumbledore continued when the small amount of applause had tapered off, "And Hogwarts has reinstated an old tradition. We have an apprentice with us. I know that those of you who have classes with him will treat him with the same respect that you would give any other teacher."

"I don't see any apprentice," Ron muttered, scanning the staff table, "Hermione, did this come up in Hogwarts: A History?"

"Now it is time for us to wend our way to bed," Dumbledore dismissed them, and Hermione frowned, obviously trying to recall any mention of an apprentice.

"I know about it," Harry muttered to them, "Come on you two."

0o0o0o0o0

Hermione conjured up dozens of pillows and bolsters while Ron sealed and hardened Harry's curtains and Harry placed the privacy spells he'd learnt this summer over the bed. He planned to use these this term to keep his irregular sleeping habits and late night studying from his dorm mates. There was no point in disturbing their rest as well, and he'd trained himself to get by on only a few hours of sleep a night. He had a feeling he'd need all the time he could get to keep up this year.

Together the three of them settled themselves comfortably, shoes kicked off on the floor and collars undone. Harry had no intention of monopolising this conversation, and definitely wanted to know as much about their summer as they were willing to tell him.

"Ladies first," he and Ron chorused and then grinned at each other while Hermione rolled her eyes and curled more comfortably at the foot of the bed.

"Ok," she sighed, "Well, mum and dad weren't too happy about the battle. In fact… they wanted to pull me out of Hogwarts altogether."

"No!" Ron exclaimed in horror, clearly forgetting that if Hermione was here to talk to them now she'd obviously persuaded her parents against that course of action. Harry knew how he felt, though, it wouldn't be the same at school without Hermione.

"It took a lot of talking to get them to agree to let me stay in school here, and one of the conditions was that I have a complete break from magic during the summer. So they packed me off to my Muggle Aunt and Uncle Perkins. They're farmers, and have four children all younger than me."

"There was a Perkins in Ravenclaw, wasn't there?" Ron turned to look at Harry, who nodded. Jim Perkins had indeed gone to Ravenclaw, much to Hermione's obvious relief.

"That's my cousin Jim," Hermione laughed, "He's a Muggle born too. We didn't know, and they didn't know I was a witch naturally."

"So did you enjoy the farm?" Harry asked curiously, wondering if it had been lack of access to her books that had Hermione so upset when he and McGonagall had visited. Ron looked interested too, though he'd never admit it; he was just as fascinated with Muggles as his father.

"I hated it," Hermione admitted in a small voice, "They were really nice to me and everything, but… it was so quiet and out of the way and even if I hadn't had my school books, at least at home there was the library nearby and I could go shopping or to a movie or _something_."

Ron and Harry abandoned their comfortable cushions to hug her sympathetically, if awkwardly, and she wrapped her arms around them tightly for a moment. Harry could feel the tension inside her, and actually felt the moment it eased, like a knot unravelling and eventually loosening her muscles as well.

"Thanks," she sniffed and they mumbled 'don't mention it' as they settled back in place.

"So I guess the arrival of Jim's letter must have been a shock," Ron prodded the tale along, and Hermione sighed.

"I didn't even know he'd gotten one, and the school didn't know that I was his cousin or they'd have told Aunt May to ask me about it or something. As it was, I didn't find out until I fell in the pond behind their house and walked in on Professor McGonagall and Harry explaining about Hogwarts to Jim's parents."

"What were you doing there?" Ron frowned over at Harry.

"I'll tell you later," he promised and Hermione gave him a curious look. He smiled at her, happy to wait his turn, and she smiled back, taking a deep breath to finish her tale.

"I went back home two weeks before school started and mum and dad had a big talk to me about taking risks and avoiding danger," she sighed, "Mrs Weasley managed to ease their minds about some things though, she talked to them while we went looking for our things in Diagon Alley."

"So you and Ron met up for the school shopping trip?" Harry asked curiously, and they nodded, shooting apprehensive glances at him. He smiled, glad they'd had some time together outside of school and they relaxed when they realised he wasn't going to fly into a temper over nothing.

"Your turn, mate," Harry told the redhead sitting at the head of the bed. Ron grinned and fished in the pockets of his robes for a moment, pulling out two flat fabric wrapped parcels.

"Well, it's kind of hard to know where to start," Ron fiddled with the green parcel for a moment and then put it on the mattress next to him, "I guess it all started in the hospital wing after the battle. I was pretty confused by that spell and the brains and all, and I just wanted to get away for a while. I knew that mum and dad couldn't afford to send me off on holiday or anything, and I thought that maybe Bill could help out. You see every year the Gringotts Goblins take on… sort of apprentices. All you have to do to qualify is have your OWLs. They go out with qualified curse breakers for a couple of months and do the drudgework and record keeping, and if they're lucky they get to see a bit of the action as well. Bill swung me a spot on his team in Egypt for a short while, and off I went."

Harry noticed that Ron wasn't talking about what had confused him or why he'd felt the need to leave the country to deal with it, but from the look on Ron's face it wouldn't be a good idea to push the matter, and a shared look with Hermione showed them to be in perfect agreement. Ron would tell them when he was ready. Asking him about it would only make him clam up.

"It was brilliant, I learned all about some really cool curses, and towards the end Bill had me going in with him to check some of the chambers. The apprentices even get a finders fee at the end of their term and part of mine were these. I found them in a small chamber off to one side, and Bill said I could have them. I want you guys to have them."

The brown parcel went to Hermione and Harry watched as she opened it curiously. In the folds of the fine linen was a gold bracelet, made of several very fine threads that seemed to have been spun from the clasp, which was actually a very detailed pair of hands.

Ron leant forward and helped fasten the bracelet around Hermione's left wrist. The hands clasped each other tightly and Hermione held her arm up to admire it.

"Does it have any charms on it?" she asked, and Ron nodded, grinning a little at her.

"There's a location charm on it, so we'll always be able to find you," he stroked the threads slipping over her wrist and then sat back. Harry looked down at his parcel for a moment, wanting to give them some privacy. It looked like they'd bought a clue about each other when they were buying their school things this summer. As strange as it seemed to be having romantic thoughts about anyone, let alone his best friends, Harry was a little jealous that Ron had chosen Hermione over him. Not that Ron knew that Harry was interested in him as more than a friend, and not that Harry would ever be so stupid as to tell them and wreck their friendship…

"Go on, then Harry," Hermione broke into his thoughts.

He looked up and grinned, unwrapping his own small parcel of green linen. Inside it was a single strand necklace, also very fine, with a small golden talisman on it. It looked like a tee with a loop on top of it, and again the clasp was a pair of hands.

"It's called an ankh, and it's the Egyptian symbol of life," Ron told him and Harry held the bundle out for Hermione to examine it.

"Do you want help with the clasp?" Hermione asked, and Harry shook his head, the chain so long that he could simply slip it over his head as it was. He admired it for a moment and then stuffed it inside his shirt, the metal cold against his skin.

"It's brilliant, Ron, thanks," he grinned at his friend, who grinned back, a little embarrassed by the whole thing.

"Your turn," Hermione said briskly, and Harry sighed. He'd hoped that this could go on a little longer before he introduced his news.

"Ok, but you won't like it," he warned. He took a deep breath and explained in as few words as possible the vision that had led to his discovery of his ability to do elf magic. Ron's eyes widened so far that Harry thought they would fall out, and Hermione instantly demanded a demonstration. Harry obligingly popped off to his classroom and back, not that he told them where he'd gone.

"Wicked," Ron sounded envious, "That's going to come in right handy, Harry."

"So then you spent the rest of the summer here?" Hermione was not to be distracted, "And Professor McGonagall took you on the home visits."

"She told me it was because Professor Snape was still in the hospital wing, but I found out later that wasn't true," Harry sighed, dreading their reactions. They were prefects, and that was something they'd always done better than him. His new status as school apprentice now put him above them, even above the Head Boy and Girl.

"Apparently, the members of the DA did really well on their exams," he picked at the fringe of the cushion he'd pulled into his lap and avoided their eyes, "And then Professor Heggerty was hired to teach the Defence class. Problem is, she announced that she would only teach teenagers, as in thirteen year olds or higher. That left the first and second years without a defence teacher and Professors Sprout and Flitwick got this idea in their heads that I'd make a great school apprentice, and could teach the years that Heggerty wouldn't cover."

He pulled the small badge out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione, who took it numbly. He was grateful that they were too shocked to speak, so he could get it all out in one go.

"So I've got the defence classroom on the ground floor, and have to take prep for the first and second years once a week each, as well as mark their homework and take my own classes. I'm the youngest one they've had since Dumbledore started his apprenticeship in his seventh year."

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled. Hermione passed the badge to the redhead, who glanced at it briefly and then handed it over to Harry, "No wonder I made captain of the house team."

"Ron," Hermione groaned, "Don't…"

Ron shook his head though and waved his wand at the curtains. Harry had just enough time to sit up before his support vanished and the redhead climbed out of the bed, disappearing into his own. Hermione bit her lip and patted Harry on the shoulder. She couldn't quite meet his eyes though, and Harry shook his head. He pulled Ron's gift off and wrapped it back in the green linen, handing it to Hermione and taking off the privacy spell, then vanishing her conjured cushions.

"Don't be like that, Harry," Hermione pleaded but he got up and started pulling his robes off, feeling very much as if someone had fastened a steel band around his chest that was slowly but surely tightening. Hermione made a frustrated noise and stomped out of the dorm, barely avoiding knocking Dean down the stairs.

"You lot haven't had a row already, have you?" he asked tiredly, but Harry didn't answer, pulling on his pyjamas and sealing his bed curtains once more, calling his Arithmancy notes to him. For a long time he just stared at them without really taking them in.

0o0o0o0o0


	4. Harry's Heart 1

0o0o0o0o0

Harry's Heart - 1

He found that the best way to deal with the whole situation was to ignore it. He got up early the next morning and was in the Great Hall having breakfast before Ron and Hermione entered. By that point the seats around him were full so they had to sit elsewhere, and Harry made a point of sitting next to Neville in their first lesson of the day, which was Transfiguration. He remembered that Neville had gotten a new wand over the summer, and they spent the time before class started examining the eleven inch birch wood, which Neville said had a core made from hippogriff wing feathers.

After Transfiguration Harry had his first class to teach, first year Slytherins and Ravenclaws. He'd worked out how to introduce himself, and got them settled quickly into the lesson, discussing the theory of defence and pointing out the relevant bits in their books. They'd have one practical lesson at the end of the week using a simple shield spell against water balloons that Harry was going to bewitch to act like bludgers.

He had Charms after that and then lunch, which was a good thing because he was starving. He sat with Dennis Creevey and his friends, much to Mr Creevey's delight, and listened as they discussed their first lesson from Professor Heggerty. It sounded as if she was going to be a popular teacher, at least with the third years, despite her personality, and he finished his lunch early in order to be back in his classroom for the second year Slytherin and Gryffindor class.

His younger housemates blinked at him in outright astonishment, and Harry made sure to emphasise that he was acting as an apprentice to the teachers, not a member of their House while he was in this room. Slytherin even gained five points for doing really well in the short practical test he'd devised to get an idea of their skill level, which was about the same as the first years. Umbridge hadn't done them any favours by insisting that they learn theory only.

Once that lesson was over, Harry hurried to the dungeons for double Defence Against the Dark Arts, his first lesson with the new teacher. This was only his second lesson with his House, and no one had spotted the small badge that he wore pinned in the folds of his robes. He wasn't sure he wanted to advertise his apprenticeship just yet, especially after Ron and Hermione's reaction. Neville had an empty seat next to him again and Harry slid into it with a grin for his friend.

Heggerty was an abrupt teacher that barked instructions at them in short sentences. They had a short test first - to gauge their knowledge - followed by a duel. The test wasn't that hard, and Harry grinned when Neville finished not long after him. The other teen usually took longer on tests because he wasn't really the scholarly type, despite his long hours of study and concentration.

"We'll duel House to House, to make things interesting," Heggerty barked when the tests were returned, "Malfoy - Potter, you're up first."

Harry nodded and got up, moving up onto the platform that Heggerty had installed along the front of the class and drawing his wand. He dipped his head and shoulders in a short bow to his opponent and they stood back to back waiting for the signal to begin. He took the required steps and whirled to one side, feeling the spell Malfoy had cast before hearing it properly, letting the tickling hex impact on the wall behind him and erecting a shield against the stinging hex that followed.

He sent a binding curse and confusion charm Malfoy's way, deflected one that would make his clothes change, partially hit Malfoy with the hair growing charm and failed to dodge the reductor curse, feeling something crack hard when he hit the wall. He slid to the ground in a painful heap and watched Malfoy stalk over to him.

"Expelliarmus," Malfoy muttered lazily, and turned to smirk at his cheering housemates. Harry launched himself at the blonde, tackling him to the ground and taking both wands away, putting his opponent into a full body bind before slumping back to the ground and cradling his ribs.

"Cheat!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked and Professor Heggerty let off a huge bang with her wand.

"Five points to Gryffindor for demonstrating that a duel isn't over until your opponent is totally neutralised," Heggerty barked in the silence, "Never forget that your opponent doesn't need magic to knock you over, or even kill you. Muggle methods are just as effective as magical ones."

Harry got up with a grunt and staggered over to give Malfoy's wand to his teacher.

"Hospital wing," she snapped and Harry nodded, dragging his bag along the floor as it was too heavy to pick up in his current state. Once outside the classroom the corridor was deserted and he teleported himself and his bag to go see Madam Pomfrey. He had prep after this, and needed to be alert.

0o0o0o0o0

Gryffindor was waiting for him when he got back from second year prep. He was counting on having enough time to dump his bag and wash up a bit, and the sight of his whole house - including the second years he'd just dismissed - waiting for him made him nervous.

"Is it true?" Neville asked. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen, so Harry guessed that his House hadn't had time to find and ask them. For a moment he thought about playing dumb, but decided not to drag this out any longer than he had to.

"I'm the school's new apprentice," Harry sighed, and was deafened by the roar. He had a split second to wonder why it was that his House chose to express it's approval or disapproval like a lion before he was pulled into a seething mass hug, people slapping his back and shoulders and ruffling his hair. Lavender Brown planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek that had him spluttering and wiping it off and Ginny hugged him so hard he lost his breath for a moment. By the time they'd quietened down it was dinnertime, and the sixth years insisted on escorting him to the Great Hall, sitting around him in a noisy approving group.

Hermione and Ron were sitting together down the end, heads close as they spoke in urgent and hurried tones.

"What's their problem?" Seamus asked with a frown and Harry sighed. He was determined not to let their rejection bring him down, even though they were the closest to family he'd ever have. Ginny didn't mind that he had a new role in school, but then again she wasn't a prefect and he didn't threaten her authority.

"The one time I do something freakish that the House approves of, they don't," he tried to joke, and Neville frowned. Harry shook his head at his friend significantly and was relieved when the subject was dropped. He wasn't going to be the cause of a House rift - he'd had enough controversial things happen to him in his time.

Gryffindor got one or two cautions that dinner time for rowdy behaviour, and Harry did his best to quieten the people around him, not that he wanted to test his new status against his peers.

"I suppose this means we have to leave you out of any pranks now," Dean chuckled as they all headed back upstairs, and Harry laughed.

"Merlin, yes! Don't do that to me!" his reaction was rewarded with plenty of laughter. He was relieved that they let him head up to the dorm, changing into his pyjamas though it was early and climbing into bed with his Transfiguration homework and Arithmancy notes. He couldn't explain why the subject had become so interesting to him, though he had to admit it was helping him understand the spells he was casting a bit better.

With his curtains closed, the sounds floating up from the common room were muffled, and Harry didn't pay much attention when someone entered the dorm about an hour later. He realised after a minute that it was probably Ron, because whoever it was went to Ron's bed and dropped something heavy beside it.

"Bugger," Ron's voice sounded and Harry resisted the urge to offer his help picking whatever it was back up. When he'd gotten up this morning the green linen parcel had been resting on Ron's dresser, obviously dropped there by Hermione on her way out. Harry hoped that Ron would put it away, not liking the reminder of the end of their friendship.

Footsteps dragged up the stairs again, and Neville's voice asked Ron what had happened.

"The strap broke," Ron said sharply, and Harry sighed silently. Ron's bag had been falling apart for a while, but his friend hadn't wanted to ask for a new one, because he liked the one he had. Between the two of them they'd gotten quite good at patching it back together again, using both magic and - on occasion - knots.

"Look, just because you're jealous of Harry, you don't have to take your temper out on us," Neville replied just as sharply, "You know, Seamus asked what was wrong at dinner and he made some stupid joke about the one time the House approves of him you two don't. If you ask me you're a rotten friend, Weasley, if you can only like him when no one else does."

"Hey! What would you know about it!" Ron said hotly, and Harry opened his curtains. Both teens fell silent, and he slipped out of his bed, pulling on his ratty dressing gown.

"Sorry Harry," Neville was bright red, and Harry made himself smile. Neville was just trying to be a good friend, and it wasn't his fault he'd lost track of who was in the room and who wasn't.

"It's fine, Neville," he assured the brunette, "Don't worry about it."

He headed out to the loo, hoping that when he came back they'd have finished their argument. As soon as he was out the door it slammed, and he had a feeling that a pretty strong silencing charm had been stuck on it as well. A glance back at the door showed a faint spidery pattern on it, and Harry frowned, wondering what that was as he headed for the boys loos.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry was exhausted by Friday. Ron had announced that the Quidditch trials would be early Saturday morning, so he'd been sitting up late to get his homework done. Once he'd napped - his nightmares and visions had stayed at about the same level of intensity that they'd been over the summer - he worked on the Arithmancy problems he'd set himself, which were suitably complicated to take his mind off everything else.

To make up for the lack of proper sleep, Harry found that he was eating a good deal more than he had before, but for some reason didn't gain any weight. This was a good thing, because he needed to be light if he was going to be a Seeker for the House team - presuming of course he made it through the tryouts.

His classes had settled down quite well. There were the usual know it alls, and cheeky buggers, but on the whole things went smoothly, and if the marking he'd done on Friday afternoon and night was any indication, they seemed to have gotten the right idea in class time. Snape had also appeared during his marking period to see how he'd marked the Slytherins compared to the Gryffindors, but had been unable to come up with any actual complaints. Not that he didn't make a few anyway.

The Potions Master was still relying on a cane as he walked, and Harry had seen several of the Slytherins glare at their Head of House in a very unfriendly fashion. Harry had heard rumours that there were quite a few incensed parents, unhappy that a 'traitor' was teaching their child, though he didn't think any formal complaints had been made. After all, Snape had betrayed the Death Eaters and a complaint along those lines would not be wise in the current climate. In Potions, he'd actually reprimanded Malfoy's behaviour, much to everyone's surprise and Ron's glee. Harry would have liked to hear what Ron had to say about that, but Ron had yet to speak to him.

Hermione had sought him out on Thursday night as he was heading for the dorms. It was actually easier to get his work done while in bed than in the library or common room. His House had had some time to think about what his new status meant, and either asked him a thousand and one homework questions, or looked faintly uncomfortable when he was nearby. He'd quickly figured out that they didn't want to be caught planning pranks and left them to it, seeking the privacy of his bed and its concealing curtains. He had thought about going to stay in his office to do his homework, but in the end decided not to cut himself off from his House altogether. With the door to his dorm open he could at least hear them, the sound of his fellow students talking and studying made an oddly soothing background noise.

She had fidgeted with her book bag for a long moment, not meeting his eyes, then sighed and leaned over to give him a brief hug before heading for the library. Since then she'd continued to sit with Ron, and Harry had been confused about what it all meant. He smiled at her in the halls and in lessons, but made no move to sit near her or Ron. It wasn't his fault this time, and pushing for an apology or reconciliation wouldn't work. It was their problem and therefore up to them to figure things out.

So, exhausted by Friday, and then up very early on Saturday, because with his luck Ron would be a bigger fanatic than Oliver Wood. Ginny was in the Great Hall when Harry came down to breakfast and he sat next to her silently, munching toast and trying to wake up properly. She was kind enough to wait until he'd finished and they walked out to the pitch together.

Ron was already there, looking over his broom, and Ginny and Harry decided to warm up a bit, jumping on their brooms and taking the quaffle up with them. All the previous team captains had insisted that the whole team practice quaffle handling, so Harry was used to the drill of catch and throw and tackle and block. After a while Ginny took the quaffle down and came back up with the snitch in her fist.

"You game?" she asked and Harry grinned, nodding. He was already feeling more alive than he had since summer started, and Ginny released the snitch while Harry counted aloud to fifty, their eyes fixed on each other to give the golden ball a good chance to get 'lost'. The moment he got to fifty Ginny flew straight at him, trying to knock him off his broom, and he rolled easily, blowing a raspberry as she passed and shifting for a better vantage point. Ginny had been a very aggressive seeker, while Harry preferred to stay out of the action, only interfering to give his team the advantage.

Ginny dogged him, searching the air around them while Harry flew randomly, letting her do the hard work of tracking him and their quarry while he enjoyed the rush of air. She got too close for comfort at one point and Harry sent his broom into a reckless dive, pulling up at the last moment and skimming so low across the pitch that he could have leaned down and touched the grass. He'd felt Ginny pull out before him, not wanting to risk getting ploughed and he grinned, soaring back up into the air and ignoring the gangly form of Ron, who was standing near the Gryffindor changing rooms.

There was a flash of gold in the corner of his eye and Harry leaned forward, his broom surging up into the sky after it. Ginny appeared out of nowhere and Harry threw his weight to the side, sending his broom into a desperate corkscrew manoeuvre to avoid the collision. The snitch changed its course and he skidded across the sky after it, hand outstretched, feeling the flutter of its wings and then the cool metal in the palm of his hand. He whooped in victory and slowed the broom, grinning over at his wind tossed friend.

"Ha!" he told her and she laughed, flying so close that their knees could touch.

"If you could see yourself," she laughed lightly, "You look alive!"

Harry grinned and they landed on the pitch, shouldering their brooms and heading back for the crowd of people that were waiting with Ron.

"Right, so now that we're all here," Ron muttered, "We're looking for two Chasers and a Seeker this year."

Harry grinned and smoothed his hair down as best he could. There would be no favours from his friend, and Harry actually appreciated that. It wouldn't do to have rumours of favouritism going around. Slytherin would be sure to say that he got his place on the team because he was Ron's friend, or the schools apprentice, and if Harry wanted to dispel those comments he needed it to be clear to his House and to any spectator - and there were a few in the stands already, not all of them Gryffindor - that Ron was going to treat him like any other hopeful applicant.

The Chaser trials went first, and Ginny was definitely one of the best flyers there. She had great handling skills, ducked the bludgers well and scored seven of her eight attempts. No one else managed to do that well, Ron was on fire as a goalkeeper, much to Harry's relief.

The Seeker trials were much like the warm up that he'd done with Ginny that morning, only the bludgers were loose and Sloper and Kirke seemed to have gotten their eye in. Their aim was almost lethal, and they had no qualms about picking on Harry to make a point. Despite the fact that four other people were trying for the position, and showing off a lot of fancy flying while they searched for the snitch, Harry found it easy to concentrate on his goal and managed to not only catch the snitch first, but do it a lot quicker than he had against Ginny.

Ron announced that the new team would be posted on the notice board and Harry trouped in with the rest of the crowd, grinning at the jibes that Ginny was tossing his way and throwing a few back of his own. Neville had apparently been in the stands, and came to join them. He complimented them both on their flying, though he seemed to be more impressed with Ginny and Harry eased back amongst the crowd to let his friends talk uninterrupted.

0o0o0o0o0

He made the Quidditch team and it was very interesting to spend an entire two-hour practice with a team captain that wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry knew a lot about the game, and even more about how Ron's mind worked, so the team wasn't at a disadvantage, and they managed to win the first match of the season in grand style.

The months had settled into a routine for Harry, the weekdays going past in one long blur of learning and teaching and practicing and preparation. Saturday was Quidditch and homework day, though Harry's sleeping pattern had not changed for the better, which meant that he was able to get a lot of his homework done at night, followed by self tutoring in Arithmancy. It was the only way he could keep up with the demands of his studies and apprentice duties.

Sundays found Harry in his classroom, feeding his Dark creatures and plants and generally avoiding the common room. He'd never been one for the spotlight, and although he appreciated that his House were proud of him, it got a bit wearing to have them constantly around. Ron and Hermione had always been much quieter in their approval, and Harry missed them desperately. He couldn't sit with them, and hated ignoring them, therefore Sunday mornings were spent in his classroom, tidying and preparing for the next week. It was time alone, something that he paradoxically had too much of and yet not enough.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the slamming of his classroom door and the muffled sobs of a first year from Slytherin. Harry frowned and bit back on a sigh. Mark Mathers was a small, pale dark haired boy with huge blue eyes and narrow birdlike features. He was some kind of cousin to Malfoy, though Harry wasn't sure what the exact connection was, and didn't care either. He could be seen dragging around an overstuffed book bag day in and day out, and had always been very quiet and studious in Harry's class.

"Mark?" Harry asked gently, "What seems to be the problem?"

For a moment it looked as if the startled student wouldn't answer, then tears welled up in his eyes once more and his narrow chest heaved with emotion.

"I'm too stupid to be here!" Mark wept bitterly, "I shoulda been put in Hufflepuff!"

No he shouldn't, Harry mused, Hufflepuff accepted people for who they were and worked hard at their skills. Though Mark was a hard worker, he did tend to judge people on their looks and possessions and was not above scheming to make things work his way.

"I'm sure that's not true, Mark," Harry replied and went to sit on the chair nearest to his huddled student, "It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but you'll soon get used to us."

He winced inwardly at the truly fatuous words coming out of his mouth and then shrugged. He wasn't a speechmaker and never would be no matter what others thought of him. Weak winter sunlight was angling through the windows, and Harry knew that by the time breakfast was over most of the students would have made plans to head out into the sun washed courtyards for snow fights and other such amusements.

"I can't even change a stupid beetle into a button," Mark confessed, pulling himself upright, and wiping his nose on a hanky that was dragged out of a concealed pocket, "And they were laughing at me about it."

Harry sighed and shook his head. He knew just who the boy meant. The younger Ravenclaws had been a little more vindictive this year than he'd thought that House would ever be, and as a result some of the less capable students were suffering. The fact that Mark was so competitive as to be trying a second year spel lin his first, was just another sign of how determined the boy was to be the best, to outdo everyone, even his own house - a very Slytherin ambition.

"I've got some beetles here to feed the Grindylow. You can practice in peace if you like," he offered and Mark nodded tentatively. Harry went to fetch a beetle and opened one of the windows and the classroom door with a wave of his wand, airing the room out. He hated it when the place smelled musty, though that was likely to be because of his Dark creatures. Dobby helped him take care of them, despite the elf being busy with his own duties, which meant that the air never truly reeked.

He sat opposite the boy, wrong way around on a chair and watched as his student jabbed stiffly at the beetle, which of course didn't change at all. He frowned, looking at Marks grip and stance and then shook his head after the third failed attempt.

"Let's try something else," Harry suggested, and took the wand out of Marks hand. He started massaging the wrist he held lightly, encouraging it to loosen and relax.

"In every living thing there is a code that tells it what to be," Harry explained in a quiet voice. His fingers moved over the tense wrist he held, sensing the knots and blocks that seemed to be stopping the magic before it reached the wand. He rubbed and stroked hypnotically, almost able to see each tangle and smoothing it carefully as he spoke, "It tells it to be human or a tree or a beetle. It tells us what colour we are, the shape of our ears, the height we'll grow to, if we're fat or thin, even if we use our left or right hands to hold a wand. When you perform that spell, you're telling the code to change from being a beetle to being a button. You need to keep that in mind when performing the spell."

Harry slipped the wand into Marks fingers, pressing them properly into place. Mark took a deep breath and said the required incantation in a hushed voice. The tears had dried from his eyes, and his face had regained some of its normal colour. Harry could tell that he was much more relaxed, which would only help the spell.

The beetle quivered and then changed into a perfectly round button. Mark whooped and jumped up and Harry grinned at his student, pleased that it had worked the first time.

After that, Sundays found Harry with an ever-growing number of students, from all houses and in the first to fourth years sitting in the Defence classroom doing a wide variety of homework. Harry quickly learned to partner them off so they were tutoring each other, and flitted from group to group, offering a word of encouragement here and there.

He noticed that several times he could tell why a spell was going wrong from the way it _looked_ as it emerged from the wand. That little development had Harry wishing his best friends were speaking to him so he could confide in them about this latest development, but as they weren't he kept it to himself, eventually recognising that his Arithmancy studies were helping him to recognise the spells he was seeing from time to time. It only happened when he was really concentrating hard anyway, like when there were more students in the Sunday group, or when he was especially tired or upset.

The visions from Voldemort continued to plague his sleep, though he rarely saw them overlaying the real world. None of Voldemort's victims were someone that Harry knew or cared for, and while he didn't like the fact that strangers were being hurt, there was little in reality he could do to stop it, something he'd come to realise after a long and torturous thinking session.

That had only emphasised his separation from his best friends. He missed them both like he would a limb, though it was particularly hard with Ron. No pun intended. He shared a room with the redhead, and saw him in classes every day, yet the silence between them might as well have been a wall. He loved the teen with all his soul, yet Ron's blatant interest in Hermione meant he'd never be able to reveal his feelings. With that knowledge it should have been easier to let go of the feelings, but Harry had found that wasn't the case. Perhaps it was the elf magic he used, but he just couldn't stop loving the redhead.

0o0o0o0o0

A/N - I just finished this one, so hopefully the posts will be a bit quicker, but for those who are interested we've got a loooooooooong way to go! (Word count is 67 112, 95 pages typed!!)


	5. Harry's Heart 2

0o0o0o0o0

Harry's Heart - 2

Ron went home for the holidays, and when Ginny tried to tell her mother that she wanted to stay at school, the resulting Howler left scorch marks on the common room ceiling, and the House complained of a ringing in their ears for _days_. It turned out that the only one staying for Christmas from Gryffindor was Harry, and though he'd made a light-hearted joke to Neville about it, he still knew that he'd feel pretty lonely on December 25.

He locked himself in the tower for the first week of holidays, getting his homework and the lesson plans for the next term completed. Professor McGonagall approved the plans and warned him that he was not allowed to lock himself away on Christmas Day. He would be expected to breakfast in the Great Hall, and to attend all the activities the Headmaster had planned for those students that had remained for the day.

Of course Voldemort also had made plans for Christmas, and they definitely involved living up to his status as number one on Santa's 'naughty' list. Harry had fallen asleep on the couch in the common room, with Hedwig perched on the back of it. She'd kept him company whenever she found him alone, and Harry had gotten in the habit of talking to her, and responding to her actions until they seemed to be involved in deep conversation. Ron would have laughed himself sick if he'd known, but he didn't and Harry wasn't sure if he was happy or depressed about that.

In his dream, dawn was tingeing the sky, and the Burrow seemed peaceful enough. Harry found himself standing near the hedge that bordered the garden, dividing it from the meadow next door. The snow in the yard was slowly turning pink as the sun rose and would have looked quite pretty if not for the Death Eaters creeping their ways across it. Three of them were waving their wands and chanting in the driveway and Harry realised that whoever they were, they were dismantling the protective wards that surrounded the garden. These wards had the tingle of new magic to them and Harry sensed that Aurors in the Order - at Dumbledore's insistence - had added them recently.

Realising that his friends were about to be attacked, and he was going to lose the closest thing he'd ever had to a family gave Harry the adrenaline jolt necessary to wake from his fitful doze. He leapt up, startling Hedwig, and the next thing he knew he was in the Headmasters office. He shouted for the Professor loudly, waking Fawkes at the same time.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice sounded quite thick with sleep, and the bright pink nightshirt and knobbly knees would probably have given him nightmares in the future if Voldemort hadn't already filled that particular function to capacity.

"Sir! There are Death Eaters at the Burrow! I can still see them! They're taking down the new wards!" Harry blurted, flinching as one ward in particular sliced down the middle and fizzled to nothing.

"How did you know about…" Dumbledore broke off, snapping awake, "Fawkes, can you warn them?"

The Phoenix launched from its perch and burst into flame, disappearing. Dumbledore hurried to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder and called the Auror Division of the Ministry. He alerted the Auror on duty to the attack and made another call to Mad Eye Moody.

Harry chewed on his lip, watching the Death Eaters closely, slipping from the reality of Dumbledore's office to the snow covered yard on the strength of his anxiety. He couldn't bear to lose the Weasley's too - it would be too much. The last ward tore and Harry yelled incoherently, appearing in the Burrows yard without a second thought and sending a shockwave spell through the snow on the ground, flinging it at the Death Eaters in a furious tidal wave, wrapping it around all twelve of them and sending a freezing spell after it, turning them into true snow men.

The noise attracted the attention of the Weasley's who shouted from inside the house and tumbled out of their beds, grabbing for wands and slippers and rushing to defend their home. Harry didn't let up on the freezing spell, hardening the snow to the consistency of iron just as a large number of Aurors arrived, followed by several of the Order, and lastly the Weasley's themselves burst into the yard.

"Harry?" Ginny squeaked, "What's going on?"

It was apparent from the postures and the masks on the snowmen that the Death Eaters were not in the area to sing carols, and the Aurors quickly took charge, preparing each one for transport. The Order members pretended that they were in the area to spend Christmas with the Weasley's who were too confused to say otherwise. It was total chaos and Ginny slipped away from the protection of her father to come to Harry's side, shivering a little in her flannel nighty. Harry was shivering too, though probably not from the cold as he'd been sleeping fully clothed and wore last years gift of her mothers thick home made jumper.

"They were attacking," Harry said a little helplessly, and Ginny hugged him, unsure how to soothe the unsettled teen before her. Harry always seemed so confident and in control to Ginny, and to see him lost for words now was something of a shock.

"Good thing the famous Potter was here to rescue his sidekicks then," Ron's mutter went unheard by the adults nearby, but to Harry it felt like a giant hand had punched its way into his chest and ripped out his heart, taking his lungs and spleen for good measure. He felt like he was bleeding inside, and from the way both Ginny and Ron flinched his expression must have indicated that a little. It would have been kinder if Ron had just stabbed him.

He took three very deliberate steps back, and turned away, hurrying around the side of the house for a moment of privacy, popping back to his dorm the moment he was alone and climbing stiffly onto his bed. He sealed the curtains shut with a strong set of personal wards and curled up in a ball in the middle of the mattress, wishing he'd never been born.

0o0o0o0

His Head of House came to find him at dinnertime, dismantling the wards he'd put up with a bit of effort. Harry was cold by then, colder than the Death Eaters that he'd mired in ice, and she'd transported him to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey's excellent care. Harry let them think that he'd been desperately upset by the near miss at the Weasley's rather than trying to explain that Ron seemed to hate him for saving his family. He wasn't too sure that Professor McGonagall believed him, but she was kind enough not to call him on it.

Loola and Dobby came to visit him on Boxing Day, the elves sitting with him in silence, offering him wordless comfort that helped to ease the worst of the pain. Apparently house elves could form a kind of support network that helped ease each other through the loss of a member of their chosen family. Harry was beginning to understand why Winky had been so upset when she'd been dismissed by Crouch. He missed his family.

He was up and around by New Years Eve. He'd given a report on the Christmas Day incident to Dumbledore and then retreated to his House common room. Professor McGonagall left him alone, and Harry was grateful for the space. He needed the time to get his head back together before facing the rest of his Housemates.

There was the usual celebration for New Years Eve, including a magical fireworks display over the village of Hogsmede that the students watched from the Astronomy Tower. Everyone went to bed late, which is why it was a bit of a shock to be woken so early on New Years Day by Professor McGonagall. She was pale and her lips were thin, a sure sign that she was upset.

"Staff room in an hour, Potter," she muttered and left before he could do more than acknowledge her. Harry got up and grabbed some clean robes, heading for the bathroom and the luxury of a really hot shower. He hurried to dump his pyjamas on the bed and was surprised to see Pigwidgeon sitting on his pillow, looking very subdued for a change. Normally he'd have to chase the owl like he would a Snitch to get his letter.

Ron's handwriting was on the front, and Harry opened the scroll quickly.

__

When I get back to school we need to talk. Meet me in the Room of Requirement.

Harry scrawled a quick 'ok' on the bottom of the note and tied it back to Pig's leg, before hurrying for the staff room. He refused to get his hopes up - after all, if Mrs Weasley had found out what Ron said she'd make him apologise, which would do nothing to actually repair their friendship. Harry wanted Ron to like him because that was what Ron wanted, not because that was what someone had told Ron to do.

The teachers in the staff room were quiet and grim, and Harry took a seat in the corner as always, trying to stay out of their way. He had a feeling that someone from school had been attacked, possibly a lot of someone's. The teachers would be told together, that way they would be able to best deal with the returning students. As the school's apprentice, Harry was included in that notice, though he would probably not have much to do for the students.

Professor Trelawney wafted in, and the door closed firmly behind her. Harry saw the spider web pattern spread strongly over the door and walls, and recognised it as a privacy spell. Funnily enough Ron favoured this spell, and Harry thought it was a good thing the red head couldn't see the shape of what he was casting. He wrenched his thoughts back to the present as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and noticed that Snape was still missing.

"Last night, Mark Mathers of Slytherin went to visit with a distant cousin for New Years," her voice was clear, but subdued, "He returned to his house this morning to find the Dark Mark above it and his parents murdered within."

Teachers gasped and murmured to each other, and Harry paled in shock. He'd dreamt last night of a couple refusing to take the Dark Mark, and their subsequent deaths. Surely he hadn't watched Mark's parents die…

"That house was not the only one the Death Eaters attacked. Several Dark Marks have been raised over Britain and Wales last night. All were pureblood families. It is the Headmaster's belief that You-Know-Who was recruiting new followers. Those that were killed…"

"Refused the Mark," Professor Sprout said softly, "Is Mr Mathers the only student affected?"

"From here, yes," McGonagall nodded, "The other families had sent their students to Beaubaxtons or Durmstrang. And of course, it is always possible that there are many more that accepted the Mark, and even now have students in this school."

"What should we do?" Professor Trelawney fussed, "Such dark omens must not be allowed to taint our school… the disruption in the aura…"

"Thank you Sybil," McGonagall interrupted, her voice as sharp as always when dealing with nonsense, "We will teach our students as per normal. Mr Mathers is being fetched by his Head of House, as there are no close relatives to take him in. Something will be organised for his guardianship. The Daily Prophet will no doubt be full of rumours and gossip tomorrow, and it would be best if we wait until the school has reopened for second term before we make any announcements in regards to this matter. The Headmaster is dealing with Mr Mathers guardianship issues now, and until such a time as he has returned we are to present a united, calm front to the students."

It was a dismissal and several of the teachers left to return to their supervisory roles, and Harry quickly followed them. The teachers that remained gathered in clumps to talk in hushed tones.

Not wanting to go back to the empty common room, Harry wandered aimlessly down the stairs until he reached the entrance hall. The doors to the Great Hall were still open and he could see several of the wonderful Christmas trees that Flitwick decorated each year sparkling in the morning sunlight. The house elves had set the tables ready for breakfast, and the late sleeping students would probably stir soon, reminded by grumbling stomachs to get up.

The front door to Hogwarts opened and Harry glanced up from his place at the bottom of the stairs. Professor Snape limped in, one hand clutching tightly at his walking stick, the other resting upon Mark Mathers' shoulder. Mark seemed even smaller than before, his face bone white and his eyes dull and glazed. He looked up as Snape urged him in, and spotted Harry.

Moments later Harry was steadying himself on the banister, one arm wrapped around the shoulders of the first year that was apparently trying to squeeze him in half. Mark's dry sobs wrenched through the air and Harry hugged him tightly, unsure of what else to do to ease the child's pain. Snape stood to one side, his eyes hooded, face expressionless as Harry rocked a little on the spot and rubbed a hand over the thick winter robes. He heard a set of footsteps on the dungeon steps and popped without thinking into the Gryffindor common room, backing up to a couch and sitting down, pulling Mark into his lap and hugging him tightly. Grief like this should be private.

Moments later Loola popped into the room, nodded to him and popped out. Snape had probably summoned the elf to find Harry, a theory that was proven ten minutes later when the portrait hole opened and McGonagall climbed in followed by the Potions Master. Mark had cried himself out and was huddled into Harry's chest, gripping the robes he was wearing tightly, his face hidden in Harry's neck. Harry had both arms around the boy and was sitting quietly, staring into the fire in the grate, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say or do that could help Mark get through this. He already knew there was nothing he could say to make things better, and wasn't stupid enough to try. You grieved until you didn't, that was how this worked, and nothing anyone could say or do made the process shorter.

0o0o0o0o0

They quickly discovered that Mark was not about to detach from Harry without a fight, and the Slytherin boy spent the rest of the holiday in the Gryffindor common room, or attached to Harry by the hand as they walked through the rest of the school. Snape had been surprisingly quiet on the subject of Mark's preference for Harry's company, and though Harry made a point of taking the boy out into the school to mix with others, it was Harry's company alone that Mark seemed to crave. The Headmaster had spoken to Harry when the first year was asleep and explained that Mark was now a Ward of the School, and as such the teaching staff were his guardians. Therefore Harry's care of Mark was quite acceptable to all.

Mark had a few nightmares, and tears were always close to the surface. Harry encouraged the boy to talk about what had caused the dreams or tears, and otherwise distracted him with a few extra curricular spells and lots of exercise. Madam Hooch usually took her supervision time out to the Quidditch pitch and Harry would take Mark there to fly and otherwise move about. The more tired he was the better he slept, though Harry was always awake anyway.

The evening the rest of the school returned, Mark and Harry waited in the entrance hall with Snape. Several of Mark's housemates were the first through the door - in fact Harry thought that they'd made a deliberate effort to get here quickly, and Harry was relieved to see Mark go willingly to sit with his friends. Hermione and Ginny arrived with the next group as Snape stomped off to take his seat at the staff table, and Harry smiled a little when Ginny spotted him. She left Hermione to rush to his side, hugging him fiercely and squeezing the air out of him. She insisted they sit together for dinner and Harry let her steer him into the Great Hall. It would be easier to disappear when the students were all moving back to their dorm rooms, and Ron always hated missing out on a school Feast.

Mark sought him out at the end of the meal and Harry hugged him goodnight, unashamed at showing affection for the newly orphaned boy. He wished Mark pleasant dreams and let Snape call the Slytherin away, ignoring the glances and whispers from the rest of the Hall.

"His family were one of those killed on New Years, weren't they?" Ginny proved once again how quick she was to take notice of the little clues around her. Harry nodded sadly, and she hugged him again. He gave her a squeeze around the waist back and got up with the rest of the table.

It was very easy to get lost in the swirl of students heading for the House dormitories, and Harry quickly made his way to a secluded alcove that let him pop to the corridor where the Room of Requirement was most often found. He paced back and forth, his mind awhirl with possibilities and was very relieved when the door appeared and opened onto a cosy chamber with two armchairs placed before a roaring fire. There was even a small table between them with cups of drinking chocolate and a plate of biscuits. Harry took the chair furthest from the door and sat down to wait.

Ron looked a little grim when he entered, and Harry did his best not to panic or leap to the wrong conclusions. He watched the spider pattern spread over the walls and door, the privacy spell setting up a web to catch any stray noise that might come from those inside it. Ron sat in the empty chair and ignored the cups on the table.

"I've been an idiot," Ron mumbled, and Harry frowned. His friend held up a hand and Harry settled back in his chair, prepared to give Ron the silence he had just asked for.

"I'm sorry Harry. It's just that once again you're doing something that I never could. You're the great Harry Potter, and I'm just Ron… no one special… and no one expects me to be…"

Harry bit a lip and looked at the floor. He was pretty angry and hurt - he could admit it. He never intended to make Ron think that he wasn't as good as Harry, and he certainly never tried to set himself up as better or more important than Ron.

"And when you told us about it, you were… well expecting us to be mad at you, so it was just easier to do that than to settle down and think it through. Because I know that you hate the fame and the whole Boy Who Lived thing, I really do know that, when my heads on straight. Hermione's been after me all term about how I was out of order and should just say sorry, but I didn't think we were friends any more… after the way I treated you I wouldn't blame you if you knocked my block off and told me to piss off... I thought I'd bollixed things up for good. But then at Christmas you pop up out of no where to stop those Death Eaters and you don't even brag about it afterwards, not even when I put my foot in it. I guess that was what made me see how thick I was being. Merlin, Harry, the expression on your face… it was like watching someone bleed to death."

Harry shook his head. He'd felt like he was bleeding to death, not that he could tell Ron that. He was starting to feel the tiniest bit of hope, though. If Ron could get over him being the schools apprentice, he could get over Ron's temper. Merlin knew his friend had put up with Harry's before.

"You might not believe this, but when you just got up the next day and acted like there was nothing wrong, I convinced myself that you didn't care if we were friends anymore, and even that fight with Neville didn't really change my mind. All term Hermione's telling me what an idiot I'm being and how I should just apologise and get over myself, but until I saw your face that one time, I never realised that you were hurting just as much as me."

Ron stood up and Harry got up too, sensing that this was what Ron needed him to do. That last sentence had gone a long way to easing his hurt, and if that was the entire apology that Ron could come up with then Harry would accept it without quibbling, his foolish heart leaping at the prospect of having Ron as his friend again.

"I'm sorry," Ron said it straight, and Harry nodded, struggling not to embarrass himself. He hated it when they fought, especially after the row they'd had in fourth year.

"Friends?" Harry asked, putting a hand out for Ron to shake. Ron grabbed it with both his, and somehow they ended up with their hands pressed between them, standing so close that Harry could feel Ron's breath on his face. Harry grinned uncertainly and Ron smiled back. They stood in silence for a while, hands and eyes locked together, a thousand and one unsaid things flowing between them.

"Come on, or we'll be late for curfew and you'll have to give us detention," Ron broke the silence and Harry took a deep breath, letting go and stepping back, turning and heading for the door, glad that he had a moment to get his expression in order.

0o0o0o0

Hermione met them at the portrait hole and hugged them both, whispering her own apology into Harry's ear. Ginny beamed at them and Harry had a feeling that she'd be telling her mother all about it. Harry had found his Weasley Christmas jumper on Boxing Day and had sent her a heartfelt letter of thanks, which she'd replied to with a big box of home baking that was almost too heavy for Hedwig to carry. Harry had the feeling she'd known what was going on all along and was giving her son a chance to sort it out before she took matters into her own hands.

The three of them sat down and swapped holiday stories, not that Harry's was very exciting. Schoolwork was not a fascinating topic of discussion, even if you were best friends with the smartest witch in the school. They had too much school gossip to go over, and Harry finally got to hear Ron's reaction to the telling off that Snape had given Malfoy in Potions. It was no longer an isolated incident, and all three of them wondered why it was that Malfoy in particular had fallen out of favour with his Head of House.

Harry slept for nearly five hours straight that night, waking only when Voldemort got particularly miffed with Gregory Goyle's father over a bungled raid on an apothecary. Harry had come to realise that Voldemort was actually missing Hogwarts Potions Master, and sent a note to that effect to the Headmasters office, placing it squarely on his desk where he couldn't fail to find it. He'd considered sending a similar note to Snape, but in the end chose not to commit suicide by Potions Master.

He studied Arithmancy for the rest of the night and got up early to indulge in a long shower. The boys in his dorm were stirring as he returned to get dressed, and Ron was up and rummaging in his dresser. Harry peeled out of his ratty dressing gown and shivered as the cool air struck his skin. He shivered again when something cold and metallic draped itself around his neck and hung against his chest.

"I never meant for you to give that back," Ron's voice said, but by the time he turned the red head was on his way to the loo. Harry grinned stupidly and got dressed, packing his bag for the day and mentally reviewing this afternoon's practical lesson with the second years. It was Thursday and lessons would restart immediately.

He didn't wait for Ron in the dorm, preferring not to torture himself with the struggle to not stare as Ron got dressed. They were not shy in their dorm, and Harry had been very strict with himself about not looking too closely. At any of the boys in his dorm. He was pretty sure that he was the only gay boy in his dorm and didn't want to be some kind of pervert that stared at others in a lust-induced haze. Should anyone ever discover he was gay then the boys in his dorm would at least have the comfort of knowing that Harry had always kept his eyes to himself.

Hermione found him in a chair near the window and perched on the windowsill, making small talk about her Christmas holidays. Apparently the Perkins had come to London and had spent the holidays pumping her parents for more information on the Wizarding world. Hermione could barely wait to turn seventeen so she could show her mother what she'd spent the last six years learning. Harry let her run on, happy to listen to her almost stream of consciousness ramblings once more. This would wear off after a few days, but as he'd never thought he'd be Hermione's sounding board again right now it was a pleasure.

Ron joined them, followed by a gaggle of first years that opened the portrait while Ron and Hermione said good morning and Hermione asked Ron if he'd remembered his holiday homework. Ron was replying rather heatedly when the first years shouted in surprise and a dark green and white checked thing came streaking into the common room and launched itself into Harry's lap.

"Mark?" Harry exclaimed and wrapped his arms around the shivering boy. Mark was freezing cold, as his feet were bare, and he wore no dressing gown over his chequered pyjamas. His breath was hitching in what Harry recognised as 'not quite tears' and Harry cuddled him close, rubbing the thin limbs briskly to warm them.

"Have you been there all night?" he asked in confusion and Mark nodded.

"They were chasing me, and I couldn't find you," he sniffled and Harry bit back a sigh. Most of Marks bad dreams involved the Death Eaters chasing him. As Harry was the person who usually woke Mark up, the boy had come to see him as some sort of protector.

"You're freezing! Why didn't you go to Professor Snape? He'd have helped you," Harry wrapped the edges of his student robe as far around Mark as he could, and smiled in thanks when Hermione conjured up a warm blanket and tucked it around the boy in his lap.

"He was one of them," Mark choked, "They all said he was!"

Tears poured from his eyes and Harry tightened his hold on the boy, freeing his arms so they were outside the blanket. They were attracting a lot of attention at the moment, and as it wasn't common knowledge in Gryffindor that Snape had been a Death Eater, Harry decided to take this elsewhere. Obviously the older students in Slytherin had let their Head of House secret out, though the House was hardly likely to advertise this to the rest of the school. He juggled Mark until he had a good grip and then got up, smiling at Ron when his friend snagged a trailing corner of the blanket and tucked it safely around Mark's frozen feet.

"Come on," Harry shushed, "It's all over now. You're ok, Mark."

Hermione and Ron steadied his burden as he climbed out of the portrait hole and Hermione pulled the blanket up a bit to hide Mark from curious eyes as Harry carried his charge to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey.

She dismissed Hermione and Ron at the door and ushered Harry into her office and over to a big armchair where he could cuddle Mark while she checked him over. Past experience had shown that forcing the boy to let go while he was upset only made things worse. A calming draught and a spot of breakfast would help settle the boy's nerves, and Madam Pomfrey promised to talk to Snape and Dumbledore about what could be done to prevent this from happening again.

0o0o0o0


	6. Harry's Heart 3

0o0o0o0

Harry's Heart - 3

"Why doesn't it work?" Amy Anderson burst out in frustration as the rest of the second years filed happily chattering out of the room. The Hufflepuff was still having troubles with the Protego spell, despite the fact that they'd moved on to other things. She usually lagged behind the class, though Harry was always happy to spend extra time with the girl to help her pick things up. She was bottom of the year in defence, but never gave up, and always appreciated his help. She was in his classroom bright and early every Sunday, working doggedly at her homework.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Hermione and Ron slip into the back of the classroom, but didn't let that distract him. Amy was almost there, the shape of her spell was much improved, though not yet strong enough to hold off his enchanted balloons. The practical lessons always ran over time, mainly because Harry couldn't bring himself to short any student who needed help.

"You're trying too hard," Harry said gently, "Remember, the tenser you get the more tangled the magic. Loosen your grip on your wand a little, that might help as well."

Amy took a deep breath and let it out, not relaxing very much as she gripped her wand once more.

"I thought that if I gripped it hard it wouldn't be taken away by the Expelliarmus spell," she frowned up at him and he grinned. She was always thinking things through, which was one of her more endearing traits.

"True, but the end of your wand needs to flick for Protego, and if you hold it too tightly you can't flick it properly. You have to find the balance," he demonstrated for her, and she copied the movement he made, "That's it, try again."

He lifted his wand and summoned a balloon towards them. Immediately her grip tightened and Harry froze the balloon in mid air when her shield failed to form at all.

"Too tight," he frowned and she scowled, a rare display of temper.

"This is stupid, they're just water balloons," she muttered, wiping her hands on her robe and picking up her wand again, "It's not like we'll ever be dodging them in real life."

"So I should shoot hexes at my students instead of water balloons?" Harry asked lightly, "You'll get me fired. Probably from a cannon."

Amy giggled and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed, imagining her teacher in a cannon. She put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh though she knew her teacher wasn't really upset with her.

"Wonderful idea, Amy," Harry continued, watching her closely though he pretended not to, "There would be bits of me all over the place."

Amy laughed, and Harry sent three balloons zooming at her.

"Protego!!" the cry was sure and the shield formed perfectly in front of her, bursting all three balloons harmlessly, "I did it!"

"Five points to Hufflepuff," Harry praised her, "Now get out."

Amy laughed and practically skipped from the room, announcing her success to her friends who had waited for her. Harry grinned at the cheers and waved his wand to clean up the mess. He glanced down to where Ron and Hermione were sitting in desks, smart arse expressions on their faces and hands waving wildly in the air.

"Please, sir, may I try?" Hermione simpered and Harry obligingly pelted her and Ron with the remaining water balloons. His friends fended off the worst of the barrage, though a few got through.

"Git," Ron cast a drying spell on himself and then Hermione, who peeled a bit of burst balloon out of her hair, "We're going to the library to get on with McGonagall's homework. You coming?"

"Sure, just let me feed the plants and water the Grindylow," Harry sent the homework parchments flying up the short staircase to his office and adjusted the shutters so the plants would get the benefit of the full moon and early morning sunlight as well. He dropped mice in the plants pots and topped up the murky Grindylow's tank quickly, before glancing around one more time to be sure everything was ready for the first class of the day tomorrow.

"Harry," Hermione said as he picked up his bag and walked down the aisle to join them, "That was really amazing what you did. The look on her face as she left…"

"Yeah, you're a natural," Ron added and Harry felt warmed by their praise, "Even the way that Mathers kid came to you for help this morning…"

"Poor Mark," Harry sighed, "He's had some bad nightmares, and from what I can figure his dad always came and took care of him after. He seems to have latched on to me instead."

They fell silent as they walked through the busy corridors, knowing better than to discuss a student's private life in public. They found a small study table in the corner of the library and split up to find the books they'd need. This was a well-established procedure that Hermione had trained them in and Harry and Ron had learnt to keep the peace. They weren't exactly dunces, but neither were they studying fanatics.

Harry slipped easily into the routine of completing his homework with his friends. He and Ron usually kept a bit of old parchment between them so they could write notes to each other without disturbing Hermione or attracting the attention of Madame Pince. The afternoon slipped away quickly, and it wasn't until they were putting their things away that Hermione raised a question that Harry had never considered before.

"How did you know that Amy's shield spell would work? In fact, how did you know when it hadn't?"

"I can see the shape of the spell, and read it," Harry frowned, "I've been teaching myself Arithmancy… I finally understand why you were so fascinated with it Hermione. It makes everything a lot easier if you can properly read the shape of your spell and correct the way you cast it."

"Harry," Ron stared at him in shock, "We can't see our own spells."

For a horrifying moment Harry wondered if this was where Ron lost his temper and stomped away again. Something must have shown in his face because Ron shifted a little closer to him and met his eyes steadily. The gesture reassured Harry more than words ever could.

"That's incredible," Hermione didn't seem to notice the tension that had bloomed and then died in the wake of Harry's innocent reply, "I'm sure I've read about that somewhere."

"Of course you have," Ron snorted, and Harry grinned as well. Hermione had usually read something about whatever topic was under discussion. It was a comforting point of familiarity.

"You'll remember it I'm sure," Ron continued, "But not now, ok? It's dinner time."

That was a comforting point of familiarity too.

0o0o0o0

After some thought, the Headmaster gave Harry and Mark a set of matching leather bracelets, worn around the left wrist. Harry's would warn him when Mark needed him, and if it was at night Harry could just pop into the Slytherin common room in his Invisibility Cloak. Snape made a point of warning Harry against any pranks, tricks or traps, and Harry had refrained from rolling his eyes. He might have been the least subtle person Snape knew, but that didn't mean he was stupid enough to pull something when there was no way to cover his tracks.

Hermione and Ron got a bit of a surprise when they tried to renew the old patterns of their friendship and found that Harry was too busy to be instantly available to them. Hermione confessed that she hadn't realised how much she took for granted that Harry would be waiting for her and Ron to finish their stint at whatever Prefect task had been assigned them, and Harry made a point of not taking them for granted either. He didn't want them to feel like they were his back up friends or something.

Neville was naturally included in the renewed friendship. The formerly podgy boy had been a staunch supporter of Harry, though the green-eyed teen had made sure he wasn't interfering with Neville's normal social schedule. Having the three of them together to study with him made Harry ridiculously happy. He felt very rich at the moment, something that had nothing to do with his bank vault and everything to do with his friends.

He was informed in the second week of term that he had passed his first term of teaching. He knew that Professor Dumbledore was sneaking into his classroom at odd intervals invisibly and watching his lessons, and was relieved to know that he'd passed the Headmaster's requirements. Professor McGonagall sat in the back of the classroom for both a second and first year lesson, but she was visible and Harry had been terribly nervous. He was glad that the two classes she'd observed had been placid groups, not given to mucking about or being cheeky.

The first years had moved on to more complex shield spells and the second years were practicing basic disarming and a few attacking spells. Both classes were also learning more about the recognition and avoidance of various dark creatures, the same ones in fact as the second years hadn't covered them in their first. Harry would need a new lot for the second years next year, and was already planning it out. Hagrid had offered to help him procure specimens, and Professor Sprout had actually set aside a space in green house seven for Harry to start nurturing some more of his dark plants.

Voldemort was always at the back of Harry's mind, making small raids with his Death Eaters sporadically, and torturing Muggles and Wizards alike. The return of Ron and Hermione's friendship had not increased Harry's need for sleep, and he continued to distract himself with Arithmancy, now using a more advanced text than the one he'd bought. Hedwig had gone gladly on the errand for him, and continued to seek him out in his office when he was marking homework or preparing lessons. Their conversations were just as fascinating to Harry as before.

Hermione was continuing to comb the library looking for the book that had mentioned Wizards that could see spells. Harry and Ron played the part of her personal librarians without complaint, and at Ron's suggestion Harry had started to deliberately use the talent, calling it up when he was learning in class, as well as teaching, or in his short leisure time. He was finding it easier to decipher the spells and wards he was seeing, and the ability was definitely a bonus in his teaching.

Mark continued to cling to Harry for comfort. He sought Harry out of class time, and Ron had taken on the role of big brother to the Slytherin first year, something that Harry would never have dared suggest and was eternally grateful for. Ron could tease the occasional smile out of the orphaned boy, though Harry could make him giggle shyly. Hermione accepted his presence matter of factly, and Neville was long used to Harry's students coming to sit with him when they were in the library or a prep room.

In the end it was Mark who solved the mystery of where Hermione had read that reference, and all it took was her slamming a book shut and shoving it away in exasperation.

"I'll never find it," she muttered, propping her chin in her hands, "I'm sorry Harry, I just can't think where I read it!"

"Read what?" Mark asked curiously, his eyes big in his face. He'd never seen Hermione treat a book so badly and Harry grinned. Hermione was all kind and gentle with her books until they refused to give her the information she was looking for. Then she turned on them in a temper.

"I mentioned something about the ability to see spells," Harry gave half the story to the child he was mentoring, "You have to admit it would be pretty handy to be able to see what was being cast at you."

"Oh," Mark smiled up at him eagerly, "Like the Goblins do."

"Goblins?" Hermione asked sharply, "What about them?"

Mark glanced at her nervously, and Ron put a hand on his 'little brothers' shoulder in support. Mark was about to learn that you never got in the way of Hermione and her quest to learn.

"Well, it's a Goblin thing," Mark replied, "My d-dad… he told me that one of the reasons that Goblins were so good at guarding money and finding treasures is because they can see the magic around them. He said that they don't see the world like we do, instead they see it as a series of spells and magical sources. He said that e-every living th-thing had a s-special aura and that's w-what the G-Goblins saw."

Harry ruffled sleek hair in commiseration. This was the first time that Mark had mentioned his dead father without bursting into tears. Mark leaned into his side while Ron squeezed the boy's shoulder lightly. Hermione's face softened for a moment and then she leapt up, heading for the shelves. That got a chuckle from Ron and a little smile from Mark, though the boy burrowed closer into Harry's side.

It wasn't until he was in bed that night that Harry realised that he'd discovered another ability that he'd never known about. If the ability to see magic was a Goblin-only trait, he'd somehow managed to learn yet another species mind view. He rolled onto his side with a sigh and frowned. Once Hermione had presented her findings he'd decide what to do. Either way he was going to have to tell the Headmaster about it before the end of term.

0o0o0o0

"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured, "And you use this ability in your teaching as well?"

"Yes sir," Harry nodded, "It helps me figure out where the students are going wrong."

"But how do you know where the flaws are in what you see?" Dumbledore leaned back and steepled his fingers together. Harry had made the appointment with the Headmaster after Hermione had finished her research and suggested to Harry a few ways to combine the house elf and goblin magic to improve his use of magic. Harry had to admit it had worked. His spells were a lot more powerful and a lot easier to cast. He also found it easier to learn new spells quickly and detect the use of magic around him. He'd caught a few of the second year Ravenclaws in the midst of a very subtle prank thanks to this new skill.

The Headmaster had welcomed him to the appointment with tea and biscuits, and they'd sat in the armchairs by the Headmaster's fireplace. There was a howling snowstorm outside and the office was quite cosy. The damage Harry had done in his grief last year had been repaired, and the portraits on the walls were snoozing in their frames as usual, though Harry had caught one or two of them peering at him when they thought he wasn't looking.

"I've been studying Arithmancy at night," Harry confessed. Fawkes shifted on his perch, moulting badly as another burning day approached, and Harry smiled at the Phoenix fondly, "Hedwigs been fetching books from Diagon Alley for me, and I use them to help me understand what I see."

"Is it only spells you have seen cast that you can see?" Dumbledore's eyes were gleaming in interest, and Harry shook his head.

"I can see the schools wards inside the walls if I concentrate hard enough, but I can't read all of them. Some are too complex for me to decipher, though if I had time and a lot of reference materials I could probably figure them out," it wasn't boasting, it was the simple truth. Harry could figure out what the wards were if he had time and space to do it in, just as anyone else with a copy of them on parchment could, provided they had a proper understanding of Arithmancy in the first place.

"Can you alter the spells you see?" Dumbledore leaned forward and replenished their teacups, offering Harry a biscuit. For all the casualness of the actions, Harry had a feeling that Dumbledore was waiting for his answer quite anxiously.

"I've never tried to," Harry frowned, "I always thought it would be to dangerous to go mucking about with someone else's magic. The only time I try to alter what I see is if I'm casting and it's failed. I assumed that altering my own magic wouldn't be as dangerous, somehow."

Dumbledore relaxed, and Harry felt that he'd given the right answer there. Not that he was just saying what he thought Dumbledore wanted to hear. It was dangerous to mess about with something magical that wasn't yours. Everyone knew that.

"A wise decision Harry," the old Professor beamed, "You could do a lot of damage interfering with someone else's casting. It's a sort of arrogance to assume that you can alter what you haven't set up, and that is a trait I have noted to be absent from your make-up."

"I won't try it," Harry promised, and then hesitated, "Headmaster, is this normal? I mean, you said that now and then a Witch or Wizard pops up that could master another species point of view. Do they normally master more than one?"

"No," Dumbledore said simply, "But then again, you are a most unusual Wizard, Harry. Do not be concerned. Your powers will level out in time, and until they do you will have much to learn. Continue with the Arithmancy, it can only help you, and above all, remember to be open to new experiences."

"Yes sir," Harry sighed, and munched his biscuit. Dumbledore chuckled and crossed his legs comfortably at the ankles.

"On another note, I must thank you for your assistance with Mark Mathers. Professor Snape tells me that the boy has started to settle well, and several teachers have informed me of the time you and your friends have spent with him," his eyes twinkled merrily from behind the rimless glasses, "In addition, your Sunday homework club has seen a rise in student marks since last term. You're doing very well in your apprenticeship, Harry."

Harry beamed, glad to get some positive feedback. The teaching still worried him, as he took that particular subject very seriously, and didn't want to let his students down.

"I think that by the time you finish your seventh year, you'll be ready to take on several of the other subjects as well, and possibly begin a remedial class for the OWL students. Your third year of the apprenticeship is the most busy after all," Dumbledore sipped serenely from his teacup as Harry's stomach took a bit of a dive.

"Sir," Harry decided to mention his suspicion now, rather than wait until he'd graduated, "One of the reasons you agreed to this apprenticeship was so I'd be able to stay at Hogwarts, wasn't it?"

"If you cannot stay with the Dursley's this is the safest place for you," Dumbledore agreed, "I realise that you have dreams of becoming an Auror…"

"That can wait for a little while," Harry shook his head, "There's always other years if I still want to join."

"You're a wise man, Harry," Dumbledore sounded a little sad, "Much wiser than I at your age."

Harry shrugged. He'd had to grow up a lot in a very short time, and it wasn't so much wisdom as the realisation that his responsibilities to the Wizarding world meant his life was not his own. At least he had Ron, Hermione and Neville to be a teenager with.

0o0o0o0

"Hey have you seen the latest twitch?" Ron asked as Harry slumped into a seat beside him. The Great Hall was full of students, buzzing in delight that the Easter Holidays were about to start. Life had been hectic of late and was about to become only slightly less so as Harry locked himself in his office to get the third term planning reviewed and approved. Once he had he'd be able to spend all his free time with his friends. He'd already warned them that he was about to disappear to get his work prepared, and to his surprise, Hermione had given him a huge hug. He and Ron hadn't been able to figure out why, though Ron had been a bit uncomfortable about it.

Harry was hoping that they'd spend the time he was locked away together. It couldn't be easy for Ron to deal with sharing his girlfriend with Harry, though the green-eyed teen had done his best to ensure that they had time alone. He loved Ron so much that the redhead's happiness was more important than Harry's desires, and he knew that he'd be honestly able to wish them well when they chose to join their futures together. Until then he was very careful not to touch either of them too often, and to always leave a space between himself and them so that Ron wouldn't be threatened and Hermione wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"Which twitch is that then?" Neville asked from Ron's other side. Slytherin had been very touchy all term, taking offence at the smallest thing and bickering with each other most bitterly. Snape's demeanour had worsened in the face of his House's divisions and he could often be seen whisking groups of students into his office. Harry very much doubted that the Potions Master was offering tea and biscuits in there.

"Zabini and the table cutlery," Ron nodded and Harry glanced up. Zabini was indeed clutching his cutlery in his hands rather tightly, and glaring at those around him as they used theirs to eat.

Blaise Zabini in particular had become quite twitchy and paranoid. He could be seen at odd intervals, lurking in the shadows of the library, poring over books whose titles he concealed from view. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had also started stalking some of the younger students, popping up behind them in the corridors and looming ominously. Harry had had to deal with a bout of hysterics on Mark's part after the three of them did it to him, and he'd reported the incident to Snape rather than tackling Malfoy about it himself. He didn't want to risk getting into a shouting match with the blonde, thus giving Malfoy more ammunition for his grudge. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Snape appreciated the chance to have a good shout at his former favourite.

"Looks like he's expecting someone to stab him with their fork," Neville chuckled, but the hackles on the back of Harry's neck were rising. Something about the desperation in the other teen's eyes was warning Harry that there were more than just poor table manners on Zabini's mind. This was confirmed by the way the convulsive grip tightened when Malfoy and his goons entered the hall. Harry slipped out of his seat and skulked along the edges of the hall, keeping an eye on the situation while he moved.

Just as he got in range, Zabini leapt to his feet and whirled to face Malfoy, the blonde stepping back in shock as his housemate rounded on him, hissing in anger. Harry popped the short distance to arrive just behind Zabini, putting his hand on the other boys shoulder to stop him from doing something stupid in his blind fury.

Zabini whirled, his hand punching forward and something tore through Harry's gut. He gasped and the other boy paled in horror. Harry put a hand to the pain and encountered the golden handle of a Hogwarts steak knife. The Great Hall erupted as he swayed on the spot and the Slytherin stammered incoherently.

"Potter!" Snape looked shocked and Harry met the dark eyes hazily. He hadn't noticed the Head of Slytherin moving from his position at the staff table, and was starting to feel rather light-headed. He just knew that if he moved he'd wake the pain that was waiting for him beneath the knife.

"It was an accident," Harry felt it important that Snape knew he wasn't blaming the other student. He knew without a doubt that Zabini hadn't meant to stab him. Snape frowned and reached out a hand. The first touch had Harry gasping in pain and his legs crumpled, sending him to the floor unconscious.

0o0o0o0

Wherever he was, there was a large amount of noise, both physical and magical. He could hear people shouting orders and questions and information, and underneath it all there was the additional hubbub of magic. Spells were being fired in quick order, some connecting, some ricocheting, and some failing with a miserable whine or bang.

Harry was hurting, but it was a dull and distant pain that was easily ignored. The noise and bustle about him was enervating though, and he stretched his awareness out, looking for a quieter spot. It was a moments work to lever himself off the narrow thing he was lying on and stumble in the direction that his senses were telling him was quiet and peaceful.

Wherever it was that he ended up there was a rather cool airflow around his ankles. It wasn't a comfortable spot to sit, and lying down appeared to be out of the question. Harry rested for a moment and then extended his senses again, looking for a better place to rest. Higher up seemed a better bet, and Harry climbed dizzily, wandering in a daze until something arrested his attention.

In a spot that was very peaceful and calm, there were two semi familiar sensations. They were separate parts of a more familiar magical signature, only they were terribly tangled and snarled. That condition was causing them, and Harry by proxy, considerable confusion and discomfort, so Harry headed over to see if he could help. He was thinking that he could do something like when he untangled the students in his class who were too tense to cast their spells properly. Amy Anderson got herself in a tangle and so did the more familiar magic of… Neville… whoever this was, they both held parts of Neville within them. If Harry could untangle them, straighten them out, then perhaps Neville's tendency to tangle himself up would diminish too. Neville had been so good to him, and this seemed like such a small effort in repayment.

Harry stood between the two tangles and reached out, soothing and smoothing his way through the worst of the snarls, taking his time to be gentle while undoing the damage. This was not interfering with another persons spell; it was more like untangling a ball of wool. He'd untangled wool for Molly Weasley once, more than happy to perform the boring chore on a long and wet afternoon. Ron had been playing chess with Ginny, and Harry had gotten bored with his book.

The tangling seemed to be worse at the centre, and Harry took his time, noting absently that the tangles were identical for each magical signature. He didn't have the concentration to spare worrying about it, as he didn't want to run the risk of snapping the 'threads' that he was working at so patiently. Some instinct was warning him that this would prevent him from completing his self appointed task.

Finally the last of the tangles were smoothed away, and Harry straightened the final kinks. The magic he had been working with was warm and soothing now, not cold and sharp, and he was relieved that the task was over. Truth be told he was feeling very tired. A little nap was in order.

Harry never saw the Healers that had been alerted to his presence dart forward to catch him when the visible aura of magic that had been glowing like a golden beacon retreated from him and their two patients.

0o0o0o0

The door to the ward banged open and Harry and the rest of the patients in the room jumped. Before he could do more than put his glasses on, he was buried under the weight of his sobbing friend. A moment's thought identified the person trying to squeeze the stuffing out of him, and he worked his arms out of the desperate hug.

"Nev?" Harry asked while hugging the weighty teen back, glad that his wound was entirely healed so the pressure being put on his belly wasn't painful.

"Thank you," Neville sobbed and Harry frowned, glancing up when someone hurried in after his friend. Frank Longbottom's hair was still white, as was his wife Alice's, but over the last few days they'd begun to look a lot better. The fact that they could now see to their own grooming, hygiene and feeding had a lot to do with that - magic could only do so much. Not that Harry had witnessed this - he'd been asleep for the most part, exhausted by his surge of magic and the Healers treatment of his stab wound. He had been informed that what he had done for the Longbottom's was permanent. Neville would not have to worry that his parents would slip away into their nightmares once more.

"Neville," Frank reached down and tried to prise his son off Harry, "Son, you mustn't…"

Harry realised that Frank was concerned about the effects his son's touch was having on Harry. The Healers had made some passing mention of the theory that Harry was exhibiting empathic powers - something that was not very common in the Wizarding world. Empaths tended to like a little separation between themselves and the rest of the world, only truly comfortable with the touch of their family and loved ones. While it was true that Harry didn't like to be touched by strangers, Neville was by no means one of those. Harry's family may not consist of blood ties, but he did have one all the same.

"It's all right, sir," Harry patted Neville's back, "He can't hurt me."

"Your wound!" Neville squeaked, misunderstanding, and jolted up, "Oh no! I forgot!"

"It's fine, Nev," Harry grinned and took the opportunity to sit up properly. The nurses on this ward liked their patients to lie down at all times, which got very boring very quickly. His only other visitor had been Mrs Weasley, who had sat on his bed and read him the Quidditch scores before leaving him a tin of her baking and kissing him goodbye. She'd be back today to retrieve him; Dumbledore had sent a note to Harry saying that he was to spend the rest of Easter at the Burrow. Ron was there already, with Ginny, and to Harry's surprise, Mark. Fortunately, Harry's work was also there, so he wouldn't fall behind in his preparations for teaching.

"Are you sure?" Neville asked, but climbed up onto the bed like he would in the dorm, "It's been such a fuss at school, Zabini wasn't even expelled."

Alice appeared, looking for her husband and son, with Mrs Longbottom at her elbow. When Neville's grandmother spotted him she hurried over for a hug too, and Harry grinned in surprise. Her magical signature was very much like her son's - she must have been quite a powerful Witch in her youth.

"Thanks Mrs Longbottom," he said uncertainly, and she snorted in response.

"We should be thanking you," her vulture topped hat quivered, "And you were injured yourself!"

"Yes, well," Harry shrugged, looking at his knees, "I was lucky not to hurt anyone."

That much was true - he'd been working solely on instinct, not knowledge, and the thought that he could have made things worse was a frightening one. He couldn't even begin to imagine facing Neville after he'd killed or injured his parents further. The fact that he'd been working on instinct made the Healers think that the Empathy was a latent talent, and one that would either develop in time or stay at about the level it was now.

"You know the young man?" Alice asked from where she had a hand on her son's shoulder. Neville beamed at his mother and leaned into the touch. The Daily Prophet had yet to get hold of this story, and Harry hoped for Neville's sake the family would have its privacy for a bit longer.

"Harry and I have been friends since first year. We're in the same dorm," Neville replied, and Harry grinned in confirmation. Frank and Alice were looking shocked, undoubtedly thinking that an empath in a dorm would be inundated with unwelcome input. Harry hoped that Neville would explain things to them during their holiday together.

"Though with friends like me, you don't need enemies," he chuckled and Mrs Longbottom snorted in response.

"True," Neville nodded seriously, "But it's a lot tidier that way."

The teens laughed at each other, as did Mrs Longbottom. Alice and Frank looked a little confused, but Harry didn't feel like telling them that Voldemort was still loose in the world and getting stronger. There was a time and a place for everything, and the first coherent conversation they'd had with their son wasn't it. Neville got up and shook Harry's hand, the initial reaction over, and Harry shook hands with Frank and Alice, submitting to Mrs Longbottom's hug with good grace. He couldn't wait to get to the Burrow. Despite the fact that it was full of Weasley's he could guarantee that it was a lot quieter there.

0o0o0o0


	7. Harry's Heart 4

AN - Thnaks for the generous reviews! I'll try not to disappoint!! :-)

0o0o0o0

Harry's Heart - 4

"Are you done yet?" Mark's voice intruded on his thoughts and Harry looked up with a smile. He was sitting in a corner of the front room, borrowing Mrs Weasley's writing desk to finish his lesson plans. The sun was coming through the window and he was quite warm and comfortable. The last three days had been very pleasant indeed. Mrs Weasley had mothered him gently, Ron was there at night to talk rubbish with and the rest of the family made for a very comforting background noise. Mark had been a bit clingy at first, but was much better now. He no longer had to be in the same room with Harry all the time, and was sleeping for most of the night.

"Only three more to go," he promised the orphan, "I thought that you and Ron were going flying after breakfast?"

"It's lunch time," Mark laughed at him and Harry shook his head. When he got started on his lessons he lost track of everything else. He put the writing desk that was balanced on his lap on the floor and Mark crossed the room, plunking himself without thought into Harry's lap and resting against his chest. The boy was easily the smallest student in the school and at times seemed to be the youngest too.

"I'll be done by tea time at the latest," Harry promised, "Then we'll have four whole days together before we go back to school."

Mark sighed and Harry hugged him gently. The orphan was recovering from his grief slowly, though they still had the odd bad day when he clung to Harry outside of lessons. The nightmares were slowly disappearing, though Harry had dealt with a few at the Burrow. His stay in St Mungo's had frightened Mark quite a bit, and the boy had told him that Ron had done his best to take Harry's role as comforter and confidant. Ron had muttered something about sitting up with the boy all night before they'd gotten word that Harry was alright, and Harry had given his friend a grateful hug which had surprised them both. Harry only hoped he hadn't blown his secret.

"Will you come flying with us tomorrow?" Mark asked wistfully and Harry nodded at once. He'd missed flying himself, and the Burrow always had plenty of brooms discarded by the older Weasley's for guests to play on. They could set up a two on two Quidditch game tomorrow - Weasley's versus Guests. Ron would enjoy that and Ginny would probably be happy to join in for a while.

"Lunch, dears," Mrs Weasley called and Mark sighed again, tightening his grip on Harry before letting go reluctantly and getting up. Harry got up too and steered his charge into the kitchen with an arm around his shoulders. Mrs Weasley beamed at them - she always got quite misty eyed when she saw Harry playing the part of mentor - and Ginny patted the seat next to her invitingly. Mark went willingly - Harry thought he'd developed a bit of a crush - and Harry took his seat beside Ron.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall said she'd Floo over tonight to collect your lessons and talk to you about term three," Molly poured herself a cup of tea and passed the sandwich platter. She was quite proud that her adopted son had become an apprentice at Hogwarts and had told Harry so in no uncertain terms when she'd come to collect him from St Mungo's.

"How's that going?" Ron asked, and Harry grinned.

"Well, I passed the first term assessment," he told them, keeping an eye on the number of sandwiches that Mark took. The boy needed to eat more, "The Headmaster sneaks into the class invisibly to observe now and then, and Professor McGonagall sits in on a first and second year lesson at the end of term as well. Hopefully she'll be able to tell me if I passed second term when she comes."

"I didn't realise it was so involved," Ginny frowned, "How long is the apprenticeship for, Harry?"

"Three years, and then I graduate as a teacher. In the last year I have to take a full teaching load and assist all the other teachers in their tasks too, which means I'll be scrubbing Snape's dungeons every week."

Ron laughed and slapped his shoulder in friendly commiseration and Ginny giggled too. Mark looked a bit relieved though, as if he'd been expecting Harry to leave at the end of his second year. Harry was hoping that Mark would be more independent by third year, which would allow Harry to pursue other interests. He had realised early on that the apprenticeship was another way for Dumbledore to keep him safe from Voldemort until they were certain that Harry was ready to fulfil the prophecy. Hogwarts was a very secure place and the Death Eaters would have a hard time getting into it.

Harry pushed the solemn thoughts aside and focused on his family, sitting at the table in a sun washed kitchen and eating lunch. He did his best to preserve the memory of this perfectly, storing it up for the times ahead. He had a dark feeling of foreboding.

0o0o0o0

"Bugger," Harry dragged a hand down his face and sighed in apology at the sight of the glare on his teachers face, "Sorry, Professor, it's just… Fudge? Observing a class?"

"I realise that this is the last thing you'd want, Mr Potter, however the Headmaster had no choice if he wanted to avoid the appointment of another Hogwarts High Inquisitor," she sighed, "The Minister has got it into his head that there is something untoward occurring at the school, especially as a Slytherin has stabbed the school's apprentice. He seems to think that the situation needs his personal attention, even though the Governors have reassured him that the whole incident was an accident. They even supplied him with a copy of your letter to them. It didn't help."

Harry had written a letter while still in St Mungo's to the Headmaster and the Governors, asking them to be lenient towards Zabini. He was convinced that the Slytherin had forgotten that the knife was in his hand when he'd turned, and Harry had startled him with that sudden touch. Already on edge, the other teen had defended himself from what he'd perceived to be an attack.

"Do we know why he was so jumpy that evening? And what did Malfoy have to do with it?" Harry asked, hoping that she would be able to give him some answers. After all, as the injured party he deserved to know why he'd been stabbed.

"It is not common knowledge among the students," McGonagall warned him, "But as you are both my apprentice and the injured party there is no reason for me to keep this from you. Mr Zabini's parents took the Dark Mark on the same night that the Mathers were murdered for refusing it. His father informed him that he would be expected to take the Mark himself at Easter, and Mr Zabini was trying desperately to find a way around the situation. Mr Malfoy found out and was pressuring him to take the Mark and stand with the Death Eaters."

"He hasn't had to take it has he?" Harry asked anxiously, any resentment he might have felt towards the other teen gone.

"He has not. His parents have disowned him, and he is now a ward of Hogwarts. Professor Snape is mentoring him closely and it seems to have had a positive effect on the boy," McGonagall sniffed, and swallowed a snigger when she caught Harry's mutter of 'no accounting for taste'.

"The incident has prompted quite a few students to come forward with complaints about Mr Malfoy and his pressure tactics, as well as concerns that they will be pressured into taking the Dark Mark. The Headmaster is currently working with a number of students who feel themselves to be at risk, and the Governors have suspended Mr Malfoy for a period of five weeks. The Headmaster was against this move, as he felt it would put Mr Malfoy at risk of taking the Mark, but he was over ruled."

"Was Zabini suspended?" Harry asked, and she shook her head. Harry had the feeling that Zabini was stuck with quite a few detentions, however, and didn't envy the other Slytherin his punishment. Detention at Hogwarts was no joke.

"On another matter, Mr Potter, it is my pleasure to inform you that you have passed the second term of your apprenticeship, to a very high standard. Your students are performing well, and the teachers in general are highly satisfied with your performance in the extra curricular activities. Even Severus has only made five complaints about your teaching."

"Only five, huh?" Harry mused, and McGonagall's lips twitched in what looked suspiciously like a smile. He grinned too, and leaned back in his chair. His Professor collected together his lesson plans and Harry walked her to the door, waving to Mrs Weasley that McGonagall was leaving and then waving to Mark who was helping Ron de-gnome the garden in the last of the daylight. He took his leave of his Head of House and went to help; giving Ron a thumb up in response to the questioning look sent his way.

0o0o0o0

The common room was busy with returned students and last minute homework completion as Harry and Ron played chess in a corner. Lessons would start again tomorrow, and Harry for one would be glad to get the coming week over with. Fudge would be visiting this week to observe his lesson, though the Minister hadn't been decent enough to tell Harry which lessons he would arrive for. Harry hoped the Minister would be able to keep his tendency for speeches in check and just let Harry get on with it.

Neville entered the common room, returned from his time with his parents, and Harry grinned at the glow in his friend's eyes. Ron noticed it too, and nudged Hermione, who was sitting with Ginny and helping her with her OWLs homework. Both boys had complained that she was much nicer to Ginny over the whole revision thing, to which she had responded quite sharply that Ginny appreciated her.

Neville stopped to speak to Dean and Seamus who were involved in a match of gobstones, and then made his way over to the foursome by the window.

"I need to see you all upstairs," Neville gestured to the dorm, and Ron got up immediately, evidently catching on that Neville had something important to tell them. Harry had a fair idea what this was about and shook his head in response to Neville's questioning look. Neville seemed even happier that Harry had kept his secret and grinned, ushering them upstairs impatiently and closing the dorm door, leaning on the wood and looking at his dorm mates and friends.

"I've got something important to tell you all," Neville took a deep breath, "Part of it Hermione and the Weasley's already know, but for Seamus and Dean…"

"And Harry," Dean glanced over at Harry in amusement, who shook his head.

"Harry knows more about this than anyone," Neville straightened away from the door, "This is… important."

Dean and Seamus both nodded and they all sat down on the beds nearest the door, which happened to belong to Neville and Dean this year.

"Just after Harry defeated You-Kn… _Voldemort_… some of the Death Eaters that were still free came to my parent's house. They were Aurors, and the Death Eaters thought that because they were the best Aurors around that they might know where Voldemort was hiding. Apparently there had been all sort of rumours and Mum and Dad's names were mentioned," Neville began and Ron tensed beside Harry. The Weasley's and Hermione knew about this because they'd seen Neville's parents by accident in St Mungo's last year. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and Ginny swallowed hard.

"They held my parents under Crucio until they were insane and left them for dead. Mum and Dad went to St Mungo's and I went to live with my grandmother," for a moment Neville's face reflected the pain of the last decade, having to deal with the knowledge that his parents were alive but did not even recognise him. Dean was looking sick, and Seamus had his head down while he stared at the floor.

"You know I got called out of school at the start of the hols…" Neville's eyes began to shine again and the mood in the room took a turn for the better, "An empath came to St Mungo's. They healed my parents. It's permanent."

The room exploded, and it was surprising how much noise so few people could make as they launched themselves at Neville to hug him. Ginny and Hermione had tears in their eyes and Harry wasn't so sure that the rest of the boys didn't either. He was also relieved that Neville had chosen not to reveal his latest adventure to the others, giving him the same privacy that Harry had extended with his silence.

"So you spent the Easter hols with them?" Dean grinned, and Neville nodded, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Harry had never seen his friend look so alive, so wonderfully happy and a small part of him felt quite proud to have helped put that look on Neville's face.

"We were spotted when they brought me back to school, so it's likely to be in the papers tomorrow. The Headmaster has arranged a safe place for them to stay and I'll see them again in summer," the formerly pudgy teen beamed, "I just wanted to tell you myself. It didn't seem right to let you find out through the paper."

"This is wicked, Nev," Dean chortled, "Calls for a celebration I think. Anyone fancy sneaking down to the kitchens?"

Ginny and Seamus agreed to go with them and Ron closed the doors after the rowdy foursome. Hermione was looking at Harry very intently, and when he glanced over at Ron the redhead was also staring at him. The door behind him took on the pattern of a privacy spell, and from the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione put her wand away.

"Empathy?" Hermione asked and Harry nodded with a sigh. Ron looked frightened, his face paling as he slumped against the door, and Harry felt sick at the wave of fear that rolled off his friend. Once more Ron was put off by the freak that was Harry. The green-eyed teen didn't know if he'd be able to forgive another breach so soon after the last blow up.

"Bloody hell, Harry, and I've been touching you all hols! Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you? And Mark! What do you plan to tell him? He can't keep cuddling up to you, especially when he's upset," Ron's blurting speech showed Harry that his friend was more worried about having hurt him with his emotions than concern for himself.

"Ron, you can't hurt me by touching me," Harry shook his head, but Hermione, who had also paled when Ron had pointed out that they'd been touching an empath jumped in.

"Harry, we must have been! Empaths are really sensitive to other peoples emotions, especially through touch!"

"Will you two listen?" Harry's shout got their attention, "I'm not a proper empath! It's a latent ability that kicked in because I was delirious and in pain! There was some sort of huge accident at the hospital and I wandered off half out of my head while the Healers were dealing with it. I could sense the Longbottom's because I've been living so closely with Neville and my house elf magic had made him one of my Important People. They were hurting and I wanted it to stop… so I made it better."

"Latent?" Ron frowned, "I've never heard of a latent empath."

"It makes sense though," Harry ran a hand through already wild hair. At least they were listening to him and not freaking out any more, "I use both House Elf and Goblin magic. Part of that ability might be because I have a small empathic ability. The Healers weren't even sure that I'd ever be able to do it again. They think I'll either grow into it, or it will only pop up now and then. Look at it this way, when Neville found out it was me that helped his parents he burst into my ward and hugged me while he… well lets just say he was pretty unsettled. It should have been a very painful experience, but because I'm so used to him, and he's a good friend it wasn't. You guys can't hurt me by touching me, and you never have."

"Do you promise?" Ron's voice was fierce and Harry nodded, meeting his eyes solemnly. He couldn't even begin to imagine a situation where Ron's touch would cause him pain.

"I swear on my wand," he replied and Ron's breath whooshed out in a great big sigh. Harry reached out and Ron grinned, pulling him into a brief back slapping hug before stepping back and letting Hermione have her turn. The possibility of arguing at the top of their lungs was over and Harry cancelled the privacy spell so the others could get back in.

"Maybe that's why you couldn't learn to block Voldemort out," she mused as she pulled back, and Ron winced but rolled his eyes. Their braniac friend was always thinking, in fact Harry didn't know of anything that would turn her brain off. If Ron had found a way to do it he wasn't sharing that information with Harry.

"Because he was an Important Person and because I'd formed an empathic link?" Harry hadn't considered it, "Maybe. It might explain why my scar hurts when he was feeling strongly about something."

"Maybe V-V-Voldemort," Ron stumbled over the name but they beamed at him, "Was an empath and passed some of it to you Harry, like he did with the Parsel Tongue."

"Maybe," Harry nodded, but the door burst open, knocking Ron off balance a bit, as the other four returned with food and drinks. They settled down to celebrate, putting the rest of this aside for now.

0o0o0o0

Harry had not told his friends about Minister Fudge's impending visit, preferring not to risk that word would spread to the younger students. He didn't want to give the more mischievous a chance to plan anything - not that they would dare prank Harry who had an uncanny ability to spot these things thanks to the Weasley twins, Goblin sight and House Elf's senses - but the Minister would be a fair target, and his embarrassment would be blamed on Harry. The Hogwarts students didn't have much time for the Minister of Magic, who was nearing the end of his elected term and hopefully wouldn't see another one.

Fudge arrived in the morning and announced at the top of his lungs in the Great Hall that he was here to supervise Harry for a lesson. Malfoy's smirk was sickening to behold, and Ron and Hermione both shot him looks of commiseration as he led the Minister to his classroom.

The day was too busy for him to spend much time with Ron and Hermione - especially as he had prep in the evening, followed by a rather long and pointless meeting with the Minister, Headmaster and his Mentor, Professor McGonagall. By the time he got back to the dorm everyone was asleep and he only had time for a short nap before he had to get up and get ready for the next day.

Ron and Hermione weren't his best friends for nothing, however, and he found them sitting on the steps that led up to his office as he entered his classroom after the final meeting with Fudge. They grinned as he approached and Mark jumped up from where he'd been sitting behind Harry's desk and hugged him tightly.

"How did it go?" Mark asked immediately and Harry rumpled his hair, something that always made the boy scowl and smooth it back into place. Harry grinned but kept his arm around Mark's shoulders, sensing the need for contact.

"It was fine," Harry laughed, "I still have an apprenticeship, and I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow."

"That's great, Harry," Mark sighed, and Harry felt the tense muscles along the boys shoulders relax. He grinned at his friends sitting on the stairs and gestured for them to go into the office. Ron hauled Hermione to her feet and let her go first up the stairs.

"It's locked," Ron explained and then gaped when the door opened at Hermione's touch. The office always locked itself when he left it, as a security measure. Harry chuckled and Ron shot him a dirty look. Thankfully, the redhead wasn't too angry to enjoy the drinking chocolate and piklets that were waiting on Harry's neat desk. He'd asked Dobby for some after he'd gone to the kitchen with the tea tray from the meeting. The house elf had promised to deliver the requested items to his office, which in hindsight meant that the elf had known that was where his friends were waiting.

They settled around the room to munch piklets and drink the chocolate, talking about inconsequential things. They finished before the first year's curfew and Harry walked Mark back to his common room, the tray banished to the kitchen once the first year was out of his office. Harry wasn't in the habit of advertising this affinity for other species magic around the school, though he refused to hide it from Ron or Hermione. He was determined to be himself in front of them, no matter what strain that might be upon their friendship. If he couldn't be who he was in front of his best friends then he might as well jump off the Astronomy tower and have done with it. Ron was clearly still making an effort to repair the breach he'd caused with his temper, and although Harry wasn't one to bear a grudge against his friend, he wasn't able to forget the first term and its loneliness so easily. He didn't want to feel that awful ever again, so he left a little distance between them, claiming the pressures of the apprenticeship to cover that gap. If Ron and Hermione were aware of it, they hadn't called him on it.

They were still in his office when he got back, and Harry was happy to see that the distance he'd kept hadn't prevented them from being able to read the more subtle signals that he'd sent.

"Well?" Ron asked impatiently, "What did Fudge really say?"

Harry grinned. He hadn't wanted to tell the whole story in front of Mark as the first year wouldn't see the humour of the situation, but his friends were bound to enjoy this.

"He doesn't like the content of my lessons, my discipline methods, the way I control my class, the way I mark their work, the tests and assessment I set, and my delivery of information is flawed. Oh and he doesn't like my appearance either," Harry rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair while Hermione put the book she'd been reading away.

"You're kidding," Ron shook his head in disgust, "What did Dumbledore say?"

"The Headmaster beat him down," Harry grinned, "And Professor McGonagall had a couple of letters from the other teachers saying how they thought I was doing. So then Fudge figures he'll deliver the coup de grace and calls Snape in to testify against me."

"You're kidding!" Hermione choked and Harry shook his head. It had been all he could do not to laugh in Fudge's face. By the time the man left he was thoroughly incensed by the lack of support he was getting from the school's faculty. Then again, why he thought the faculty would support him after the horrors of last year was beyond Harry. He supposed it was a politician's thing, and was resigned, even happy, to not understanding it.

"You'd have loved it… what did he say… um, 'Potter is performing exactly as I expect him to, Minister'," Harry copied the Potion Masters voice exactly and Ron burst into laughter. Hermione giggled too, though she was much more restrained. She probably thought they shouldn't be laughing at a teacher.

"That's beautiful," Ron wiped a tear and straightened his robes. Harry grinned at him fondly and got up to distract himself. It wouldn't do to get too sentimental in front of the red head. Hermione got up too, and urged Ron to his feet.

"That was the backwardest compliment I've ever heard," she shook her head, "Only Professor Snape could manage that!"

"True," Harry herded them out of his office, hearing the wards hum to life as the door closed behind him and following his friends down the stairs. The important thing was that he'd been allowed to continue his apprenticeship, and Fudge couldn't claim undue favouritism in the school by allowing it to continue. He'd conducted his investigation, none of the staff had aired misgivings, and the students he'd cornered had spoken well of Harry, or at least they hadn't complained about him. Malfoy had not had a chance to talk to the Minister due to a series of detentions he'd earned prior to the Minister's arrival. There was a Hogsmede weekend coming up and Harry fully intended to buy a huge gift basket from Honeydukes to leave in the staff room in thanks.

0o0o0o0

"Look at this, Harry!" Ron exclaimed and shoved the Daily Prophet into his hands as he took a seat. Ron had been reading the paper avidly for the past week, and whatever it was that had him fascinated had obviously reached a critical point.

"What am I looking at?" Harry asked, looking the page over. It was the Wizarding version of classifieds, and there seemed to be an enormous variety of things for sale. Harry had learnt that most Witches and Wizards tended to hoard the most outlandish things, the more unusual the better. Mr Weasley was a case in point with his collection of plugs and light switches.

"Here," Ron tapped the paper with the end of his knife, leaving a smudge of honey behind. They didn't have Quidditch this weekend, though there would be a practice before the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and Harry was caught up in his work. He was more organised than Hermione this year, much to her surprise. She'd always viewed him as a bit of a slacker, and tended to take over the organisation of any activity they were involved in.

"Oh Ron, you can't be serious," Hermione complained from where she was sitting opposite them. Obviously Ron had discussed this with her before, and Harry brushed at the honey smudge to better read what Ron wanted him to see.

'For sale: Knight Bus Prototype.'

"Prototype?" Harry asked, looking up at Ron who grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

"The first Knight Bus was a whopping five storeys!" he was told, "It wasn't as fast as the one they have now, and it kept tipping over on the sharper curves if you were going faster than a walking pace. People didn't want to ride on it because they thought it was unsafe, so they built the three storeys one we use now, and kept trying to fix the prototype. Each floor is the same size as the current bus, but with two more floors they can fit more people on."

"And you want to buy it?" Harry scratched his head. The advertisement had a sales price in it, which he guessed wasn't too steep by the degree of Ron's excitement. Driving lessons were included, but Harry couldn't see why the red head wanted the thing.

"I'll be of age this summer! We can go travelling!" Ron nodded, "The only problem is, that's all of my savings, which means I wouldn't be able to far."

"But if we all put in…" Harry mused, following his friend's train of thought easily, and Ron got excited all over again. Hermione wasn't, but that didn't seem to be a deterrent.

"Ron, you're missing the fact that it keeps tipping over!" she butted in, and Ron rolled his eyes. Harry read through the contact information, noting that a letter of offer had to be sealed specially so the company knew it was genuine.

"Only if you go too fast," he retorted and Harry cut across Hermione's next comment with one of his own.

"Besides, we'd reduce it to two storey's and use the extra space for other things. If we're going to make it into a travelling house, then we need to reconfigure the interior so we've got a kitchen and bathroom at the very least."

"Exactly!" Ron nodded and Hermione sniffed in disapproval. Harry grinned at them both and stuck his hand out for Ron to shake. The Headmaster hadn't mentioned where Harry was spending the holidays, but Harry figured that by the time Ron had turned of age and they'd both learned to drive the charm at the Dursley's would be 'topped up' enough for some travelling. Especially as this bus was rated for overseas travel. They could catch the ferry to France with the help of some magic, and tour around Europe for a bit.

"I'm in," he promised, "We'll go halves and have a wicked summer!"

Ron cheered and went to owl a reply to the advertisers. Hermione fixed him with a scowl and announced that she didn't want anything to do with the scheme, to Harry's disappointment. He would have enjoyed having her with them, the three of them together for a bit of light-hearted fun.

For the next three weeks every spare moment was spent with Ron, dealing with correspondence from the Knight Bus company and Gringotts bank. They had to draw up plans for the new interior of the bus, electing to put a kitchen and eating area on the ground floor with a well padded bench seat bent around the front and sides of the bus with a table for them to all sit at while the other was driving. There would be the usual sink and stove, and two large cupboards at the end, one tucked beside the stairs that led to the upper deck, and one by the open door. The one beside the stairs would have a single door with two handles, one that opened into the bathroom, and the other opening into a bedroom with a single bed. The other tall cupboard had two doors. One opened into a pantry for all their food storage, and the other door also had two handles, opening onto another bedroom and a library room that they'd use in wet weather. After some discussion it was decided that the upper deck would be converted into a bedroom that Ron and Harry could share. Harry wasn't sure why his friend wanted them to share a space like they had in the dorms, but wasn't going to argue too hard. He liked being close to Ron, and evidently Ron liked being close to him.

The Knight Bus Company designed and sent the spells that they would have to use to reorganise the interior and the standard wards they could use to ensure the bus was safe and roadworthy. Harry took the spells away and redesigned them to be stronger and better integrated. It would take a few attempts to cast this, unless Harry could convince Ron to let him do it himself. He had an idea that he could manage it by integrating his elf and goblin magic to strengthen the whole casting.

0o0o0o0

Harry emerged from behind the tree where he'd been tagging and sending his gift to the staff and clapped Ron on the shoulder. The redhead grinned and they headed away from the small clearing over to the Shrieking Shack, where Hermione stood at the fence, looking at the place that Remus and the Marauders used to haunt. Harry didn't even spare it a glance, irrationally angry at the blameless structure that had failed to keep the Marauders safe. Hermione smiled at Ron's cheerful 'all done' and they headed back through the budding forest to the village.

There were a number of teachers there today, including Professor Trelawney who had emerged from her tower to peruse the offerings of the small village, presumably in search of something her 'inner eye' had told her was there. Lavender and Parvati had walked with her for a while before being lured away by the Gryffindor boys who were interested in treating them to a butter beer. House unity was better than ever, and Harry was relieved to be living in a peaceful atmosphere. He didn't need more stress.

He wandered along the street with his friends, window shopping idly as Hermione and Ron bickered over the amount of books Hermione already had and her desire to add a few more to that collection in the village bookshop. They really did fight like an old married couple and Harry sighed, wondering when they'd get together officially. Everyone else already thought of them as a couple, and Neville had even asked Harry about it once.

"I'm going in here," he said at the door of the apothecary and escaped inside before they could even register that he'd spoken. He drifted over to the displays and bought several refills for his potions kit, and a new stirrer as well. He'd been using the same one since he'd started school and it was beginning to discolour. Harry was concerned that it was contaminating his potions and had decided to purchase a new one to see if that made a difference. He'd gotten quite good at compensating for whatever tended to make his potions less potent, but didn't want to give Snape any further reason to despise him. Just because certain elements of Slytherin were out of favour didn't mean the rest of them had caught a break, and more than one of them had been prodded by Snape's walking stick.

Purchases paid for, Harry stepped back out onto the street. Hermione and Ron were standing a short distance away in silence, looking a little guilty, and Harry extended his sense of magic towards them instinctively, trying to figure out what they were up to. His sense flared sharply, touched by something cold and foul and disturbingly familiar. Harry's eyes hardened to green emeralds and he strode towards his friends quickly.

"I want you to start rounding everyone up and get them back to the school," the school's apprentice ordered in a cold voice, "Recruit the other Prefects, but get them moving. Check each shop as you pass. If there's trouble, don't forget that Honeydukes cellar has a passage back to the school. Go!"

He whirled and headed away from the school, stepping into each shop he came to and looking for students, sending them scurrying back to safety with a cold, commanding voice. Professor McGonagall saw him at it and turned wordlessly to add her own efforts to his, a show of trust that Harry would have basked in at any other time. The threat was getting closer, and the lines of students that were straggling reluctantly to safety were slow and few.

He was in the street when someone switched off the sun. One moment the village was basking in cheerful spring sunlight, the next it was gripped in the coldest light of winter. Adults and children alike crumpled under the force of the change, the atmosphere itself becoming something cloying and hateful as the foul forms of the Dementors descended slowly in a seemingly endless wave. Harry heard the screams of his mother ringing loudly in his ears as if she was being murdered in front of him once more. He could barely grasp his wand, let alone cast the Patronus spell that would free him from the effects of the Dementors, and instinct kicked in, house elf magic whisking him to the safety of the Hogwarts steps. He staggered in place, one hand smacking into the balustrade, his fingers gripping the old worn stone tightly, needing help, needing to protect, needing to _fight… _

Like putting his hand onto a live wire, Harry felt a surge of power from the very stone he gripped, from the castle itself, as it sensed the dangers he was reacting to. Wordlessly SOMETHING asked what he needed, and wordlessly he replied.

Instantly a million happy memories, stored in the stones themselves by the students of the past and present, poured into his mind, down his wand arm and out, bursting forth in a peal of thunder. Prongs and Padfoot charged towards the distant village, rending the air itself with their passage, flinging themselves on the Dementors that even now were stooping over their victims. More were dropping from the sky even as Harry watched, and the castle responded, feeding him more of its own strength to form a small shield above the exact centre of the village. The white spot grew slowly, forming a powerful dome, which repelled the Dementors still in the air. Those on the ground that were unmolested by Pad foot and Prongs took flight, desperately seeking a way out before the dome touched ground. One flew into the leading edge and was destroyed by the perfect Light, others were trapped beneath it to be mauled to death by Harry's Patroni.

Harry's vision dimmed to a bare tunnel, the world slowly slipping out of focus as the dome completed itself and chimed once, a perfect note, one that said its task was done and those beneath it were safe. Prongs and Padfoot returned to him, a sign that the Dementors were truly gone, and he smiled, reaching for them weakly as the world went black…

0o0o0o0

Without even moving, Harry could tell he was in the Hospital wing. The scent of the sheets and pillowcase confirmed that. He was lying curled half on his stomach, and he felt incredibly comfortable. One hand was a bit numb, and someone who was smaller than him was holding the other. He didn't need Hermione to help him work out that it was Mark. From the laxity of the fingers twined around his and the slow breaths of the person beside him, it sounded as if the first year was asleep. Harry sighed and cracked one eye open, sighing again when his theory was confirmed. It was a moment's work to levitate Mark onto the bed with him, as the one beside him was occupied, shifting to accommodate the slight build of the other boy. Mark reacted to the change by curling closer and mumbling wordlessly.

"Awake, Potter? And you've only slept a week," Snape's cool voice sounded from the end of the bed and Harry turned his head to squint at the dark silhouette that stood there. His Potions Master was not scowling or sneering, a most surprising development.

"Was anyone hurt?" Harry wanted to know about his friends first, but knew that Snape wouldn't pass that information on until he was ready, and it might do some good to let the other man see that he valued all the students in their care, not just his friends.

"There are several still in shock from the Dementors attacks, and one or two injuries from the attack that was launched simultaneously by a small squad of Death Eaters," Snape replied quietly, "Granger and both Weasley's fought, but none of them were seriously harmed and have been released to their common room."

Harry sighed in relief, surprised at the mans generosity but not about to call him on it. The last thing he needed was to drive Snape into a snit.

"Thank you," he nodded to the Head of Slytherin and Snape's lip curled in what could have been intended to be a smile - a very sardonic, dry one.

"No, thank you Potter. Once again you have foolishly risked yourself and those around you to save the day."

Before Harry could ask what that meant Madam Pomfrey came bustling over. She didn't try to pull Mark away from Harry - who had a protective arm around the smaller boy - but she did run her wand over him several times.

"Right, Potter," she said briskly, in a soft voice, "You're to take the Dreamless Sleep potion now. The Headmaster can see you when you wake from that."

"Have you any message that Albus needs to hear?" Snape asked, gathering his stick and rustling his robes.

"No, sir," Harry sighed, eyeing the approaching school matron with misgiving, "Only that I didn't see this coming."

The message was ambiguous enough to prevent those that didn't know about his visions from understanding what he meant, but Snape nodded sombrely and headed for the door as Madam Pomfrey went about getting Harry to take a potion he hated.

Mark was still there when he woke, awake and rubbing the arm that Harry had around him. The hand that had been a conductor for the castles power was much better today, the numbness faded to a mild tingling. Harry let go of Mark and sat up, feeling a lot better for the last bit of sleep and glad he hadn't had to deal with any visions from the Dark Lord. Voldemort would not be happy that he'd been thwarted - assuming his goal had been to get his hands on Harry.

The Matron released him from the hospital wing with the message that there was to be a staff meeting in twenty minutes, which left Harry very little time to go see his friends and eat. In the end he went to the kitchen with Mark, and five minutes later Hermione and Ron arrived breathlessly, obviously told by an elf that Harry was there. He looked them over anxiously, not reassured by the fact that they were obviously fit enough to run nearly the length of the castle to see him.

Ron had one arm heavily bandaged from elbow to fingertips, and Hermione had a few small cuts and scrapes on her face.

"Are you all right?" they asked simultaneously, and Harry laughed reluctantly, nodding his reply and waving them to seats. They joined him and Mark in a late breakfast, and then Ron offered to walk the first year to his common room. Harry promised to see the boy later, and his eyes conveyed the same promise to his friends. Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek and Harry hurried up the stairs and along to the staff room. He didn't need to be directed to the meeting room and plunked himself in the seat beside Hagrid, patting the half-giant on the hand in reassurance and nodding to Professor McGonagall.

The Headmaster was the last to arrive, and the already silent staff stilled, those that had been fidgeting stopping to regard the school patriarch.

"Well Albus?" Professor Flitwick said, "You said you'd have an explanation for us about the attack last weekend."

"And now that our Apprentice is awake, I do," Albus nodded to Harry, "As you know, the attack on Hogsmede was very unexpected. A powerful casting of the Patronus charm drove off the Dementors before they could give anyone the Kiss, though the Death Eaters acting under the charm were not affected by it."

"They wouldn't be, the charm is designed for the Dementors, not Humans, no matter how evil they are," Madame Pomfrey's voice came from the fireplace, where her head was floating. Obviously she couldn't leave the hospital wing with it so full. Harry wasn't surprised, the affect of the Dementors was horrific, and to have so many in close proximity to them would certainly upset quite a few people, not to mention any damage caused by the Death Eaters.

"How did you cast the charm, Albus?" Professor Vectra asked, "You must have relied on another source of power than your own."

"The castle itself acted as an energy pool of sorts, and this gave the caster of the charm the strength to not only build that marvellous domed shield, but to cast the two Patroni that were seen in the village."

"I thought Potter's Patronus…" McGonagall trailed off, "It was you, Potter?"

"I didn't mean to," Harry confessed straight away, "The Dementors had me half out of my mind. The power I needed was suddenly there; I was more of a conduit than anything else."

"That's incredible," Flitwick squeaked, "Oh well done, young man, well done!"

The other teachers added their voices to his, and Harry blushed, uncomfortable with the attention. Hagrid dropped his heavy hand on Harry's shoulder and he smiled at his friend weakly.

"Unfortunately, the castle wards are now badly strained," Dumbledore's voice was solemn, but not hopeless, "They will provide us with adequate protection until the holidays and then they must be completely rebuilt. The school holidays will have to be extended by at least a month, which means that the teaching hours next year will be extended to cover the shortfall."

"Do we know why they attacked?" Harry asked, feeling guilty that he'd damaged the castle, but not at all sorry about it. He'd needed the power and without it people could have been killed.

"Unfortunately we think we do," Dumbledore sighed, "Several students have reported seeing the Death Eaters leave the village with a captive. Professor Trelawney."

0o0o0o0


	8. Harry's Soul 1

0o0o0o0

Harry's Soul - 1

Harry let the ladder down the trapdoor and looked at the square opening with trepidation. While he'd been in the hospital wing, Professor Dumbledore had taught both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Divination, but with Harry back on his feet, it had been his duty to take up his classes and Professor Trelawney's as well. Firenze had taken over the teaching of the third and fourth years, teaching them the ways of the stars, and he taught the fifth years on a rotating basis with Trelawney. She taught the sixth and seventh years exclusively, and now so did Harry.

He'd already had the fifth years, and things went really well. The whole year had heard all about the way Trelawney predicted his death each year - even this year despite the fact that he was no longer in her classes. Seamus had told Harry all about her prediction that 'one of their absent numbers' would meet a slow and messy death. Harry had been very annoyed with the whole thing but had been unable to vent his opinion because it was unprofessional on the one hand and Ron hadn't been talking to him at that point on the other - he could vent to Ron in safety, knowing that his friend wouldn't spread it around.

Lavender was the first person through the trapdoor, and she surveyed the brightly sunlit room with a scowl. Trelawney preferred to keep the room dim and overheated with heavily scented fires and the shutters closed. Harry did not. He was not given to swishing about mysteriously in the shadows, and he'd never worn a shawl in his life - or at least if he had he'd been a baby then and too young to protest.

Harry waited for them all to enter, flicking the trap door shut with his wand and taking the roll in a quiet voice, though he knew who was there and who was supposed to be there. Formalities dispensed with, Harry pulled out Trelawney's copy of their textbook and held it up so they could see.

"Open to page 472. Scrying," he waited until they had opened their books and glanced at his notes.

"Scrying is the art of divining the present or the immediate future. The scryer uses something that is reflective or emits it's own light to focus upon the person or even they are trying to see. With that information, you should be able to tell me what is traditionally used for scrying. Anyone?"

"Mirrors," Ron called without raising his hand, and Harry nodded once. Ron had known how nervous Harry was about teaching his peers and had evidently been reading quickly while Harry talked in order to have an answer at the ready.

"Water and candles," Lavender added, sounding miffed that he'd beaten her to the punch in her own speciality. Ron rolled his eyes and Harry wanted to laugh.

"Correct," Harry nodded, mastering his expression, "The scryer clears their mind of all outside thoughts and focuses on the person or event they are trying to see. Sometimes, they hold an item that belongs to the person they are scrying for, but truly powerful scryers don't even need that. Today we shall make an attempt at scrying, using bowls of water. As it is the reflections on the water that we will be using, I will remind you to sit back from the bowl, not hunched over it, ruining your postures. Yes Miss Brown?"

"Shall I fetch out the bowls for you? I know where they are," Lavender's voice was just condescending enough to set Harry's teeth on edge and he raised a very Snapish eyebrow at her. He flicked his wand in a lazy lateral figure eight, starting and finishing in the centre of the figure. Crystal bowls filled with water appeared in front of each student with a quiet pop, house elf magic assisting Harry's wizard magic.

"I can manage Miss Brown, thank you," Harry replied in a quiet voice, noting that a few people jumped in surprise. Lavender flushed a bright red and subsided on her pouf. Ron shot him a sneaky grin though, and the class settled after a moment, most of them propping a head on one hand and staring dreamily into the shimmering bowl.

In order not to disturb those that were really giving this a try, or those that were using the time for a bit of wool gathering, Harry perched on the arm of the chair that Professor Trelawney favoured and let the silence stretch out, blanketing them all. He looked around the room, grateful that his peers were happy to sit quietly. Harry was no divination expert, and they all knew what he thought of the subject after putting up with regular forecasts of his death.

Despite the fact that she'd been missing for a week, Trelawney's presence was still very much in this room, with her brocade chairs and poufs, and the various fortune telling accruements stacked around the room. Though he hadn't liked her as a teacher, Harry had never wanted her to fall into the hands of Death Eaters. He was very nervous that Voldemort had somehow found out that she was the Seer that had made the Prophecy, and had taken her in an effort to find out the full details of her prediction. Harry knew from past experience that she never remembered her foretelling, and he also knew that Voldemort would not allow that to deter him from breaking as deeply into Trelawney's mind as he could to seek out the answers he wanted.

For the past few days since he woke from casting the Patronus to protect his fellow students, Harry's evening nap had been shallow and fleeting. He was taking self brewed Pepper Up potion to remain awake for as long as possible, and was hoping that he could talk Madam Pomfrey out of some Dreamless Sleep potion later in the week. At the moment he was tired, but the condition was manageable. He knew that as the week leading to exams progressed he would be even more exhausted, and by the weekend he'd be nearly useless. He couldn't risk a deep sleep however, knowing what waited for him in the visions that came nightly.

A bell sounded to announce that dinner was ready in the Great Hall and Harry gestured with one hand for the class to leave, unwilling to disturb the tranquil spell of the room with words. His peers packed their books away silently, and the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins all traipsed silently out while the Gryffindors lingered over their packing. The bowls shimmer took on a golden hue as the sun began to set, and Harry admired the affect lazily. Something in the shimmer caught his attention and he focussed on it curiously without considering his actions.

__

A torch, mounted in a wall bracket, was flaring in response to a trickle of dust that had fallen into its flame. The wall behind it was dingy and Harry glanced away with a sick feeling in his stomach, knowing just where the shimmer had taken him. His scar flared and Voldemort paced into view, lifting his wand away from the convulsing figure on the floor. Captivity had been desperately cruel to Harry's teacher, leaving her gaunt and broken, covered in filth, her robes a rank mass clinging to her wasted limbs. He couldn't hear what the foul torturer was hissing, but Harry could tell it was a threat from the way Trelawney reacted. She shook her head and pleaded brokenly, enraging the Dark Lord to the point that he levelled his wand at her once more, this time sending forward a deadly green light that had Harry shouting in horror and denial.

Harry didn't see the vision he'd been projecting into the bowls of water in the room vanish, nor did he see each crystal bowl vibrate and then shatter under the force of his anger. Lavender Brown's hysterical cries went unheard, as did Seamus's shout that he was going to fetch the Headmaster. He felt Ron's touch and slid into welcome blackness, safe in the knowledge that Ron would catch him when he fell.

0o0o0o0

Harry sat at dinner and picked listlessly at his food. Sybil Trelawney's body had been dumped on the steps of the Leaky Cauldron, and the Daily Prophet had stirred up a lot of fear and suspicion over the circumstances of her death. Coupled with the fact that the end of year exams were only two days away, the mood of the school was awful - the students tense and afraid, and Ron and Hermione's attitude wasn't helping.

Ever since the vision that Harry had unwittingly shared with his housemates, Ron and Hermione had spent the days bracketing him protectively. He wouldn't have minded so much - in fact their protection was stopping a lot of awkward questions being asked - if they hadn't been so particular about not touching him. If his hand brushed against them they pulled back with an awkward apology and anxious look. They only bickered with each other when they forgot themselves, and if one remembered, or Harry was stupid enough to remind them of his presence, then they stopped abruptly and apologised stiffly to him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he really wished he knew, so he could either stop scaring the living snot out of them, or correct whatever misconception they were labouring under. He wanted his friends back, not these anxiously hovering bodyguards.

The only time he could be himself was when he was sitting with Mark in the library or Great Hall. Mark didn't care what was going on around him at the moment as long as Harry could spend time with him, talking or playing a game of some sort. Mark touched him without a second thought, and Harry was relieved that someone didn't find him too horrible to be near. Ginny also sat with him on occasion - whenever she could spare time from her anxious revision and his two 'best friends' weren't ensuring no one came near him. Neville was also his usual sweet self, though he'd given Ron several funny looks over the last few weeks.

Ron bumped him with an elbow and Harry glanced up in time to see the red head pale. He threw his fork down impatiently and got up, hurrying out of the Great Hall before the inevitable apology could be mumbled. He steamed through the castle halls, walking blindly; too angry and hurt to pay real attention to where he was going. Eventually he found himself in his dorm and climbed into his bed sealing the curtains with privacy wards and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He hauled a pillow into his lap and tried some of the deep breathing exercises that had once been recommended rather sarcastically to him by Snape.

He consciously tried to relax his muscles, and clear his mind, aware that this was not always a good thing to do. To ground himself he extended his sense of magic and sight so that he could remain within the castle, anchoring himself in place by concentrating on the almost subliminal hum of the wards. He allowed time to pass unnoticed, until two very familiar voices caught his attention. Ron and Hermione were in the room of requirement. Ron was shouting, red faced and waving his arms around, while Hermione seemed close to tears. Harry tried to withdraw his awareness from that part of the castle, but it wouldn't let him, insisting quite fiercely that he pay attention to what was being said.

"…Got to be done!" Ron was insisting, and Hermione shook her head resolutely.

"He's already angry with us for trying to protect him from the rest of the school, Ron. If we warn Mark off as well he'll never forgive us," she replied, "It's almost holiday time, and you'll be able to take him away for a good rest."

"A good rest!" Ron sounded nearly hysterical, "He'll want to go places Hermione - how can he cope with crowds of strangers?"

"I don't know!" Hermione snapped, getting up to pace too, "All I know is that he's getting thinner and paler and looks more exhausted by the day! He might not have realised how active his empathy is, or he would have told us to stop touching him."

Empathy? Harry shook his head, wondering if the space they were carving around Harry had something to do with a simple misconception about his abilities. The castle sent a wave of approval along their connection and let Harry go back to himself. It was a rather dizzying experience, but now he knew what the problem was he was determined to fix it. Harry got up and hurried out, heading for his friends and the room of requirement.

His friends jumped in surprise when Harry burst through the door and he skidded to an ungainly halt beside the couch where Hermione had been sitting.

"Ok, this had got to stop," Harry snapped, "How many times do I have to tell you that having people touch me doesn't hurt? Especially you two!?"

"What?" Hermione gaped, "How did you know…"

"I was meditating," Harry waved the question aside impatiently, "The castle thought I needed to hear what you were saying."

"The castle?" Ron sounded bewildered, "Harry…"

"Not now, Ron," Harry snapped, aware he was being rude and overbearing, but unable to stop himself, "I heard some of what you said, and Hermione's right. If you try to tell Mark that he mustn't touch me I will never forgive you."

Both his friends paled and sat down abruptly. Luckily there was a couch behind them to stop them from landing on the floor. Harry took advantage of their shock to gather his thoughts. Shouting wouldn't help him convince them that he was all right, and neither would adopting the persona of the school's apprentice.

"I promised you, back at the start of term, that I'd tell you if you were hurting me. I swore on my wand! What in Merlin's name makes you think I'd break that promise?" Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"Every time you touched Hermione, or she touched you, you'd break contact quickly," Ron folded his arms and glared at Harry, obviously daring him to deny it, "You never did that before. You won't even touch me at all! And when we argue in front of you, you always look upset."

"Well yeah," Harry snapped, "It's no fun watching you two perform your version of foreplay in front of me, and I let go of Hermione quickly because of the look you get every time I touch her Ron. I'm not about to steal my best mates girlfriend, and nor am I looking to make him think I am."

"Girlfriend?" Hermione spluttered and Harry rolled his eyes. If they didn't want it to be common knowledge around the school that was fair enough but they must think he was pretty thick if he didn't notice the way they were together. They were both blushing and avoiding each other's eyes, as well as his, which only confirmed what he thought.

"That's stupid!" Ron shifted uncomfortably, "Hermione's not my girlfriend and we don't do foreplay!"

"You fight like an old married couple," Harry pointed out smugly, getting a perverse kick out of this, despite what it meant for his own hopes, "And you always look uncomfortable if I hug her, or she hugs me. What else am I supposed to think? If you don't want the whole school to know that's fine, but give me some credit for brains."

He folded his arms across his chest and dared them to tell him he was wrong with a look. Even Neville had noticed for pity's sake.

"Number one, Harry, Ron and I fight because… well that's what we do. We've argued ever since we met each other, and I object to the phrase foreplay," Hermione folded her own arms and glared right on back, "And number two, Ron doesn't fancy me in the slightest. He fancies you."

"Hermione!" Ron howled, looking mortified, "How could you! That was supposed to stay between you and me!"

"Why?" the question slipped out without conscious thought, and Ron looked at Harry, blushing and shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, because you're you, really, and pretty, and we've been best mates for years. It's not a problem, Harry…."

"No, I mean why would you tell Hermione, but not me?" Harry blushed, and Ron sighed.

"Because you're not interested in me like that," Ron mumbled, looking at his shoes.

"Who says?" Harry frowned, "I hate it when people make decisions for me! I've been warm for your form for the last year, Ron. Merlin knows how you missed it, what with me diving out of the room or behind a curtain every time you get changed so I don't embarrass myself on the spot. Not to mention certain dreams I've been having."

"You dream about me?" Ron sounded eager and embarrassed at the same time and Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. Harry shook his head at the surreal aspect of the situation. Here they were, confessing their feelings for each other, with an audience to boot! And to top it all off their audience was laughing herself sick at the both of them instead of being upset that they weren't interested in her.

"So you kept pulling back because you thought you were making us jealous?" Ron got up, and Harry nodded, "And you thought that we were dating or something, which is why you got uncomfortable about the bickering."

"Yes," Harry nodded again, unfolding his arms as Ron crossed the space between the couch and Harry. He was hoping for a hug, but from the glint in Ron's eyes it was best to be ready for anything.

"And you really fancy me back?" Ron put his arms around the green-eyed teen, who returned the gesture, leaning into the lanky form and holding tight. Relief was a powerful force, and almost an aphrodisiac.

"Immensely," Harry whispered into Ron's ear. They'd have the summer together, a whole summer filled with chances to explore this thing between them - just the two of them and their bus.

"Wicked," Ron sounded smug and turned to kiss him. A warning cough from Hermione reminded them that she was still there and they stepped back, blushing and clearing their throats. Hermione got up and hugged them both, and Harry revelled in the contact with his two best friends.

0o0o0o0

Neither his red eyes or pale complexion impressed Ron or Hermione, but at least they knew his exhaustion was due to the whole Voldemort and Apprentice situation, rather than some freaky ability that Harry wasn't cursing only because it had helped a very good friend of his find his parents once more. Marking tests while taking them was arduous to say the least, not to mention the fact that Mark was becoming clingier as the end of term loomed.

Dumbledore had already informed Harry that he was to return to the Dursley's for the first two weeks of the holidays, and Harry planned to use that time to get his schoolwork out of the way. The bus would arrive at the Burrow the same day he did and they would spend another three weeks learning to drive it - once Harry had reconfigured its interior. Ron had agreed - after a long and detailed discussion - to let Harry do the majority of the casting, on the understanding that Ron would be present and acting as his safety net. Harry was concerned that he'd be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the spells he'd be attempting and wanted Ron on hand to pull him out of it if things went badly.

The atmosphere at the school was positively miserable, and Mark was reacting partly to that, and partly due to the upcoming separation that the summer holidays represented. It was planned that he and Zabini would spend the holidays with Professor Flitwick's family. Apparently the Professor had a summer house in Cornwall and returned there each holiday to relax and recuperate. Zabini seemed unconcerned by it all, especially as Snape had promised to take the two for the odd trip to London, but Mark was winding himself up tighter and tighter until he snapped in the Great Hall, thoroughly upsetting the dinner dishes in front of him and having to be ushered out by the Headmaster himself.

"Harry, if they ask, Mark can come with us," Ron muttered in his ear as he tossed his napkin down onto the table and made as if to stand. Harry's knees gave out and he gaped at his friend.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "What about…"

"We'll have to be a bit sneaky," Ron smirked at him, "Did your knees go because you were surprised or…"

"Both," Harry replied, and Hermione snorted, then leaned over and blew in his ear. He shuddered and blushed, leaning into her heavily and playing up his reaction. His ears were a bit of a hot spot, but it all depended on who was blowing in them. Ron eyed him with disfavour as he 'recovered' and hurried after Mark and the Headmaster.

He found the orphan sobbing on Dumbledore's knee in the front courtyard, the old Wizard shushing and rocking gently. Harry sat on the bench beside them and added his arms to the hug, wondering what had brought this on.

"I want to go with Harry," Mark sobbed, "I know he's travelling, but I'd be good, I swear."

Harry nodded permission to the Headmaster, though he wasn't sure how he'd manage Mark and the Dursley's for the first two weeks. Dumbledore's eyes softened and he shifted the boy into Harry's lap, looking up as Professor Flitwick joined them, an anxious look on his face. Mark had his arms around Harry's neck and his face hiding in Harry's hair. He was calming down though, and the sobs had given way to uneven hitches in his breath.

"Filius, I fear that young Mr Mathers would feel more comfortable with Mr Potter these holidays," Dumbledore told the Head of Ravenclaw, who nodded his understanding and patted Mark's head gently.

"Quite all right, Headmaster," Flitwick smiled at Harry, "Although if I may make a suggestion, Mr Mathers might be better travelling to the Burrow with Mr and Miss Weasley. He'd be quite safe there until Mr Potter can join him."

"That's a good idea," Harry nodded immediately, ignoring Mark's protesting squirm, "There's not enough room at the Dursley's and he's already met Mrs Weasley. Could I Floo the Burrow and ask if they'd mind, sir?"

"I'm sure they won't," Dumbledore beamed, "Molly Weasley loves children. However I will call at once and check. Go back in to your dinner boys."

Harry stood and deposited Mark on his feet, though he held the boys hand as they walked back into the castle. He took Mark to wash his face and then had him sit at the Gryffindor table between himself and Hermione. The Great Hall buzzed with speculation, but Harry ignored it in favour of getting a bite to eat. School would be finished tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait for the freedom of the holidays to begin.

The Headmaster sent a note that Mark was to go home with Ron and Ginny tomorrow while Harry went to the Dursley's. It had been made clear to Harry that the charm on the Dursley household would only be rejuvenated this summer if the time he spent there was completely uninterrupted. That meant that once he set foot inside the house he was not allowed to leave it for the entire two weeks. Harry was relying on his planning to take up a lot of his time, and if he managed to finish that then he'd start on the holiday homework; which they planned to take on their trip in case they got stuck somewhere in bad weather. The Arithmancy Professor had also pulled him aside and recommended several books, which Harry had sent Hedwig to Flourish and Blotts for. He'd made a special book harness for her - one that charmed its contents to be feather light so she wouldn't be strained by the delivery. She continued to seek him out for company, and Harry continued to talk to her. Ron was looking at some spells for the owls cages that would protect them from the worst of the buses motion and also prevent the birds food and water from flying about.

Ron snuck into his bed that night for a cuddle, a gesture that Harry appreciated greatly. With Mark downstairs they'd have to limit their mutual explorations quite a bit, though Harry wasn't sorry that all they could do at the moment was cuddle up. The thought of further intimacy was at once appealing and terrifying. His previous girlfriend had spent a lot of time kissing him and then bursting into tears, which had not been the best introduction to intimacy, and all he'd seen at the Dursley's had shown him that what he wanted from Ron was to be real - not superficial, selfish or sickeningly fake.

Hermione had met them in the common room before breakfast and they'd promised to come and visit as soon as they could. Ron would be getting his Apparate licence these holidays as well as coming of age, and Harry could already just pop from place to place without the Ministry detecting him. He was also making a plan to get Hermione an owl of her own, so she wasn't isolated during the unusually long summer holiday. As much as Crookshanks had helped them over the years, the cat just didn't deliver letters. He'd given Mark that job, along with extra money for the purchase. Ron and Mark were going to Diagon Alley straight off the school train to buy linens, outfit the kitchen and fill out a list of Muggle appliances that Harry wanted on the bus. All this would fascinate Ron's Dad and Harry was hoping that the man wouldn't take it all apart before they got it installed. No one needed a flying toaster, or a washing machine that talked back.

As they approached the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry could sense that things were not going well in there. Even Hermione and Ron broke off their amiable bickering as they approached the doors. It was oddly quiet in there; normally there was a sort of hum made up of the students' voices. That hum was gone, replaced by a tense silence broken only by one or two rather strident voices. Harry stayed in the shadow of the doorway while Ron and Hermione slipped inside, heading to the Gryffindor table to gauge what was happening. Harry recognised Malfoy's voice immediately, and thought that the Head Boy from Hufflepuff was the other.

"…Not true!"

"It is true! You might as well face the facts! The Dark Lord is getting stronger by the day and even the Ministry can't stop him!"

"You've got no proof of that!"

"Proof! They killed Trelawney! What more proof do you need!"

"That was just an accident!"

"Wake up! The time has come to choose sides - and the winning side is the Dark Lords! The so called Light side has lost - there's no hope left now!"

"You're wrong Malfoy," Harry stepped forward, "There's always hope. Voldemort hasn't won yet, and as long as there's breath in my body he won't."

Later, after he'd kissed Harry breathless the first moment they had alone together, Ron would explain how commanding Harry had looked, and the way he seemed to fill the entire Hall, just standing there in the doorway looking at them all. Ron would tell him that the way his eyes had sparked with determination and his robes had swirled around his ankles had given the impression that at any moment Harry would explode into action. Harry had seemed to be surrounded by Light, and that light had reached out to the students sitting at breakfast, easing their own fears.

All Harry could tell you was that the atmosphere in the Great Hall seemed to clear up after a moment and that Snape had positively leapt down the aisle, secured Malfoy's ear in a punishing grip and hauled the blonde out of there. Harry had followed them, unwilling to make a further spectacle of himself. He reached with his house elf magic to the dorm and sent his trunks to Privet Drive before popping into the owlrey to tell Hedwig he was leaving. He sent a similar note to that effect to the Headmasters office and Ron's pillow, then left the school, hoping he didn't give anyone a heart attack when he arrived at his Aunt and Uncles.

0o0o0o0


	9. Harry's Soul 2

0o0o0o0

Harry's Soul - 2

Aunt Petunia had not been best pleased to find Harry in her kitchen making breakfast for them, even though it meant Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to drive to London to fetch him. Part of this was because she wasn't too happy to have Harry back after he'd disappeared and that 'barmy codger of a Headmaster' had arrived to tell the Dursley's that Harry had already left for the summer and would see them later, and the other part became obvious when Dudley threw a tantrum bigger than he - and considering the size of the boy that was saying something - because he'd been promised a shopping spree in London to get some better clothes and a couple of computer games that he 'really needed'.

Harry's explanation that he was not allowed to set foot outside the house hadn't helped, and he hadn't objected when the Dursley's decided to lock him in his room while they went to London anyway. It wasn't a problem because Harry could simply unlock the door again once they were gone if he wanted access to the house.

He buried himself in his schoolwork, much to Dudley's stupefaction. His cousin couldn't comprehend anyone wanting to do school work during the holidays and apparently paid a younger student to do his. Harry ignored this, and in fact ignored the Dursley's altogether, making his own meals before or after theirs and generally staying out of the way. His Aunt and Uncle were still attending parties regularly, which meant that Harry was locked up each night as it was apparently the latest thing to go out to other peoples parties rather than holding their own. Either way, Harry had plenty of time to get his lesson plans finished and sent off for approval and his homework well under way. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon flew back and forth daily, and Harry also sent his owl to Diagon Alley, to Eyelops Emporium to buy Mark an owl of his own for his birthday, which was three days after school broke up.

There was a bit of a fuss when Dudley was brought home early one morning by the local copper, drunk out of his tiny mind and in a rather belligerent mood. Aunt Petunia wailed about her precious boy being led astray, and Uncle Vernon had loudly asserted that 'boys will be boys' and 'childish pranks were harmless', while Dudley shouted that he'd do what he liked and anyway he was hung over. The upshot of this was that Dudley had a curfew - which was ignored - and that the next time he was caught he'd be off to the lock up. Harry pondered leaving a monitoring spell behind so he could find out if Dudley managed to stay out of the clink or not, but in the end decided not to.

Fifteen days after he'd arrived at Privet Drive, Harry headed for the Burrow. No one needed to come and get him this year, a fact that he really appreciated, and he and his baggage arrived neatly in the front yard. Hedwig had been sent on the day before and he could see her looking out of Ron's open window. He waved to her and she flapped her wings once in reply, not bothering to fly down and see him when he levitated his trunks behind him and snuck inside quietly. He knew that Mrs Weasley was expecting him for breakfast, but didn't want to wake the house. Ron was still snoring when Harry snuck in and he grinned at the redhead fondly, putting his trunks at the foot of the camping bed that he used when he stayed at the Burrow and going to pet Hedwig good morning, tickling beneath her wings lightly and letting her nip at his fingers. Ron snorted and Harry turned, going to sit on the end of Ron's bed and nudging the bare foot sticking out from the blankets affectionately.

"Get off Harry," Ron mumbled and Harry chuckled, sending a privacy spell at the door in case Ron started yelling when he woke up properly. This proved to be a wise move as Ron had him pinned down and breathless in moments, telling Harry in a breathy whisper what the redhead had felt when Harry had sunk Malfoy's final ploy. Harry would have been happy to stay where he was all day if it hadn't been for the fact that Mrs Weasley was expecting to see him shortly and was more than capable of breaking the simple privacy spell Harry had used.

0o0o0o0

Harry glanced up at the rather imperative miaou, and grinned. Professor McGonagall stood daintily balanced on the sea wall, glaring down at him. He got up obediently and waved to Ron, who was still swimming in the sea with Mark. He pointed in the direction of the bus and Ron nodded waving back. Knowing the redhead he was probably expecting that Harry was going to cook dinner.

Of the three of them, Harry was the best cook, not a chore that he minded. It allowed him to practice casting multiple charms on the utensils and let him stretch his magic a little. They'd found the perfect place to park the bus and had decided to stay in this Italian coastal town for a week or so, baking in the sun and enjoying the fresh local ingredients. Harry had started collecting recipe books, and Mark had discovered the fascinations of Muggle fiction. Ron was more interested in the music Muggles listened to, and already the stress of the last school year was fading beneath the weight of companionable evenings filled with music and books.

Harry gathered up his towel and threw on his shirt before climbing up the steps to the promenade and scooping up his teacher. She made a rather startled noise, which Harry ignored, and then purred when he rubbed behind one ear. Harry bit down an a snort of laughter and strolled along to the bus, going straight to the cupboard under the stairs and opening the door to the bathroom so his teacher could freshen up. He washed his hands and face at the kitchen sink and strung the towel on the line that they'd contrived outside the bus. At Mr Weasley's suggestion a retractable awning had been fitted on each side of the bus to give them some relief from the sun and protection from bad weather. Ron and Mark had found a Muggle clothesline made of a special sort of elastic and had hung it beneath one of the awnings. They hung their towels out to be aired there, and their clothes and linen when Ron did the washing.

"Can I make you a cup of tea, Professor, or would you like a glass of juice? We even have butter beer," Harry smiled at his Head of House as she emerged. Once more her hair was down and swept off her face, and she was wearing cotton robes - though still tartan - in deference to the heat.

"A butter beer would be lovely," she came to sit at the table, and Harry provided her with a bottle - which he opened - and one of the thick green tinged glasses that Ginny had bought for them. There were tiny air bubbles in the glass, making Harry think that they were fairly old. Ginny had been a little embarrassed about her offering, explaining that they were second hand. Harry hadn't minded and Ron could care less, though they both made the effort to thank her properly. The glasses came with two jugs, one of which was currently in use and holding ginger ale. Mark had become addicted to the drink, and Ron was inclined to indulge him.

"It's nice to see you Professor," Harry sat opposite her at the table with his own butter beer, "Are you here on holiday?"

"Yes, my cousin is here," McGonagall nodded, "I thought I'd let you know I was in the area."

Which meant that she didn't want to deal with surprised meetings or any awkwardness that might arise from them. Harry also heard the question in her voice and smiled.

"We're leaving at the end of the week, heading along the coast towards Africa," he cast a look at the clock that Ron's grandfather had given him for his seventeenth birthday. Ron and therefore Mark had moved to 'travelling'.

"Mark has never been to Egypt, so we thought we'd visit Bill, and then I want to see some lions," Harry grinned. Professor McGonagall grinned back.

"I envy you this opportunity," she waved her hand at the bus, "Travel is not the same when you can't take your home with you."

"It's been brilliant," Harry admitted, "Sunshine, lazy days and a great friend. We're hoping that Hermione will get permission to meet us when we get back to France, and we'll spend a week travelling close to home. Mrs Weasley said Ginny could come if Hermione does."

"And is Mark behaving? Have you had any troubles?" McGonagall asked delicately. Harry knew what she meant. The orphan was a Pureblood like Ron, and had very little to no prior contact with Muggles. That could lead to a few awkward situations. He wasn't a badly behaved child, but his confusion, coupled with his slowly waning grief could lead to trouble.

"He's been great," Harry reassured her, "He listens to what we tell him, and he's enjoying Muggle fiction at the moment, though it's hard to get in English here. We had one or two initial misunderstandings, but nothing I couldn't sort out."

"Excellent," McGonagall smiled, "I don't have to tell you how proud I am of you. You have been a real asset to the school and our House."

"Thanks," Harry blushed, and she chuckled, patting his hand.

0o0o0o0

"This is the life," Harry sighed and plunked himself down on the blanket next to Hermione. They'd picked her and Ginny up at Calais, right off the ferry, and this past week had been spent in the south of France, enjoying the sun and country side. He handed her the open bottle of lemonade and glanced down the hill at Ron, Ginny and Mark, who were investigating the remnants of a Roman aqueduct.

"This is wonderful Harry," Hermione agreed, "I wish I'd been allowed to come with you for the whole trip."

"Me too," Harry laughed, "I would have liked to have some backup on the Muggle side of things. Between Mark wondering why we didn't just use Magic for everything and Ron's fascination with the way it worked, it was a full time job those first weeks to get everything running smoothly."

"But it does, though," Hermione laughed and they clinked their bottles together in a toast, "Does Ron get much use out of my present?"

Hermione had bought Ron a Muggle camera for his birthday, which arrived at the Burrow before they left on their ramblings, and the redhead used it at the slightest excuse. There were rolls of film sitting in a tightly sealed tin in the bottom of what Ron called the cold box and Harry called the fridge. His friend could go broke developing them all, though Harry intended to chip in.

"Every chance he gets," Harry laughed, "From the moment it arrived, no where is safe. I can't wait to see some of the photos. We've also been buying albums to stick all the photos in - it's going to be brilliant."

Hermione smiled and leaned against his arm in companionable silence. Harry hadn't slept well last night at all, his nap shorter than usual, hence his lack of energy at the moment. His friends had found him sitting on the buses front step this morning, talking softly to Hedwig, who had just come back from her evening hunt. She also seemed to be enjoying the holiday - Harry thought she'd never looked more beautiful. Even Pigwidgeon seemed to have grown a little and calmed down a bit too. Marks owl - Rameses - was also in good health, though it was still quite young and inexperienced. Hedwig was quite jealous of it, and always stayed on Harry's shoulder when Rameses was nearby. Mark thought it was funny, but Ron seemed to understand. The redhead had jealous moments himself, mainly involving Muggles that took too much interest in Harry at the crowded amusement centres or sunny beaches they'd visited.

"Are you going to have to go to the school early, Harry?" Hermione recalled his wandering thoughts and he nodded, taking another mouthful of the cool lemonade.

"Yes, I have to make sure the classroom is organised and help the other teachers prepare as well. The Headmaster sent me a letter via Fawkes to say that Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince had both successfully petitioned for my time."

"Sounds like you had a lucky escape," Hermione shuddered and Harry had no doubt that she was talking about Snape and the work he would have kept solely for Harry to complete. Harry shuddered as well, smiling when Hermione laughed at him.

"What's for dinner tonight?" she asked after a quiet moment and Harry grinned. He'd continued to collect recipe books with the local dishes in them, and tonight he had quite a feast planned.

"You'll have to wait and see," he told her, "But I won't say no to a second pair of hands. Come on."

Hermione whined miserably, but got up to follow. Harry grinned to himself. He got her to peel the potatoes and then let her sit and talk to him while he did the rest. Of the five of them, he was still the cook, and it was a task that he'd come to enjoy.

The wards tingled and Harry glanced up, smiling when he realised that Ron and the others had come back. Ginny went to wash up, while Mark disappeared into his room and Ron joined Hermione at the table.

"Smells good," Ron said, settling himself comfortably, "I can't tell you how lucky we are that Harry can cook. We'd be living on cold beans or take away, otherwise."

"I'm sure your mum thinks we were anyway," Harry said over his shoulder as he checked the oven, then waved his wand to set the table. He didn't need to use the wand much anymore, but that wasn't really an ability he liked to advertise in front of Mark, just like he didn't like advertising that he knew how the bus was feeling as they drove or parked. Ron - who had borne the comments about his lack of driving skills when it came to flying cars with good grace - always said that Harry was a great driver. Harry felt that some of his skill was due to the assistance the bus - or rather the wards on the bus - gave him. He wondered if the wards at school would talk to him just as much, and was rather nervous about finding out.

"Well, Ginny and Hermione will be able to stick up for us," Ron smirked, "And you could always cook a meal at home to show her. That four cheese lasagne you make would go down well."

"Yeah, with the cheesecake you made last week for afters," Mark piped up, and Harry grinned, ducking his head. It was nice to be appreciated, even if it was for something as simple as cooking. And unlike the Dursley's the people he cooked for now cleaned up afterwards and complimented him on his skills.

"Get the drinks ready, Mark, and you can help me here, Ron," he ordered, pleasure evident in his voice.

"Yes, dear," Ron grumbled getting up as Hermione and Ginny giggled wildly. This was a long running joke between the two of them, started on their first night on the bus and kept up for Mark's amusement and their own entertainment. Harry liked it - it made him feel warm inside in a way that he couldn't remember feeling at any other time.

"They fight like an old married couple," Mark said gloomily to the girls, "It's weird."

0o0o0o0

"You were brilliant," Ron mumbled and Harry grinned. He stroked the arm that lay like dead weight over his waist and shuffled closer to Ron's warmth. They were taking the opportunity for a cuddle before their dorm mates came up for the night, lying with the curtains open so they could hear the first noise that would alert them to impending company. They hadn't progressed beyond cuddling and kissing during the holidays, curtailed by the knowledge that Mark was downstairs. It didn't look like they'd get any further with each other at school either, though Harry was content to wait. He wanted to do a bit of research before he tried anything with Ron.

Ron had dropped Harry off at the castle two weeks ago and then driven on to the Burrow. Harry had become immersed in the preparations, popping over to the Burrow every second night to say hello to his friends and check on Mark. Professor McGonagall had informed Harry just hours before the Sorting Feast that she was delegating her task of welcoming the new first years to him, and it had been a very nervous apprentice who had stood at the top of the steps of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had been grinning fit to burst at him though, and Harry had been all too happy to rejoin them at the Gryffindor table when it was all over.

A warning tingled over Harry's skin and he sighed, wriggling out from under Ron's arm and heading to his trunk at the foot of his bed before Ron could even react. Moments later they heard the sound of feet on the stairs and Ron sat up, running a hand through his hair. The slightly grumpy look on his face cleared when Harry crossed his eyes at him, and Ron grinned, a sucker for that expression.

Dean and Seamus entered the dorm, followed by Lavender and Parvati with Neville bringing up the rear. The Divination students of Gryffindor looked a little uncomfortable, and Lavender's eyes still bore the sad look they'd carried since Trelawney's death had been confirmed.

"Harry, we need to talk," Parvati said briskly, and Harry stood up, pyjamas in hand. He tossed them onto his bed and turned to lean against the bedpost, hands in his pockets, trying not to appear as uncomfortable and cornered as he felt.

"What do you want to talk about?" his voice was calm and adult and steady - everything it should be. Lavender shifted her feet and sighed.

"What's Professor Romany like?" she asked softly. Harry smiled. The wild haired, dark skinned, brightly dressed man that had taken the post of Divination teacher for the senior years was funny, intelligent and surprisingly practical. He had an eerie habit of drifting off during conversations, and tended to examine a persons palm, tealeaves and eyes and other such habits while talking to them, but other than that, Harry quite liked him. The fact that he hadn't taken to predicting Harry's death at the drop of a tealeaf helped.

"I haven't seen him teach," Harry chuckled, "But he seems to be quite the gentleman. He knows his stuff, and I'm sure he'll get you through NEWTS quite well."

"Harry," Seamus spoke up, "What really happened that last lesson? Was it us making the bowls show those things?"

"No," Harry sighed, sensing they'd come to the real crux of the conversation, "That was me."

His fellow housemates gasped and gaped at him and Harry ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to explain this without telling them about the house elf, goblin or empathic magic that he seemed to be developing. He was pretty sure that there was something else going on as well, something new, because he'd never quite had the connection he felt to the castle - or the bus - before. Although Professor Dumbledore had spoken to the students involved, it seemed that whatever reasons he had offered had not rung true over the summer break, hence their questions now.

"Ok, here's the thing," Harry straightened and looked at them seriously, "As near as Dumbledore and I can figure it, during the lesson I extended a light magical field to keep an eye on you all. You know that I've had visions sent to me by Voldemort before, and because I was checking on you and wondering at the same time if Professor Trelawney was ok, he managed to send me that vision. I projected it onto the bowls of water by accident, and when she… I shattered them because I wanted it to stop."

His voice was barely a whisper by the end, and he stared at the floor. He wished he had been able to do something to help his Professor, but he hadn't even known how to find her - house elf magic not withstanding. Once he had found her it was over all too quickly for him to intervene. Ron had spoken at great length about the shared vision, drumming into Harry the fact that none of them would have been able to help their teacher, not even the Headmaster. It had helped, but Harry still felt guilty at times.

Arms surrounded him, as Lavender and Parvati hugged him fiercely. The boys cleared their throats and the girls left the dorm, letting everyone get changed and get into bed. Ron sent Harry a longing look, which Harry returned before sealing his curtains and putting up a silencing spell. He set one on Ron's bed as well and popped over there, startling the red head for a moment before falling into the hug that was offered.

0o0o0o0

"Portraits?" Hermione asked, avidly interested, and Harry nodded gloomily. He didn't have time for this, a sentiment that he aired to his friends in a low frustrated voice as they walked along the upper floor corridors. Between teaching, learning and Quidditch his schedule was already tight, and Professor Dumbledore had informed him that he was to take the NEWT exams for the private Arithmancy studies he'd been doing, which would go towards the apprenticeships requirement for an independent study course. Normally that was done in the last two years of the apprenticeship, but as Harry had already begun studying it, the Headmaster could insist that he took the test with the rest of his peers at the end of the year.

"The whole staff is having one done each, which means I have to have one too," he shifted his book bag irritably, "There go my next few spare afternoons. All I can say is the painter better realise I'll be doing homework while she works, and I won't be pulling any stupid poses or faces for her."

Ron struck a ridiculous pose by way of demonstration, and Harry laughed reluctantly. Hermione giggled as well, the sounds of their good humour covering the approach of a very bitter Draco Malfoy and his goons. The Slytherin hadn't gotten used to the strict discipline that was applied by the staff in an attempt to curb his bullying habits. After his blatant support or Voldemort in the Great Hall just as school broke up, he was monitored even more closely in class, and a lot of his personal freedom had been curtailed. With his father a fugitive from the Aurors, Draco had not been able to use the threats of his families influence to get himself out of trouble. Instead of lying low and plotting in the shadows, the blonde teen seemed to have lost his head and was antagonising everyone in sight.

As the trio laughed and mucked about on their way to the stairs the blonde simply put his head down and charged forward, leading with his shoulder. Incensed over the loss of dignity and privilege that his family had suffered, Draco barged right into Harry, driving him backward and off balance. His back slammed painfully into the balustrade and he felt something give. His feet left the ground as Ron and Hermione's shouts echoed in his ears and Harry felt himself tumble backwards, leaving behind the flimsy safety of the balustrade and entering a sickening free fall.

Several people were screaming and Harry wasn't too sure that he wasn't one of them. The stairs that normally arched across the centre of the castle snapped to the sides, so he didn't have to worry about landing on one of them. He did have to worry about the ground, though. He'd hit the floor pretty hard unless there was something to break his fall. He remembered seeing a cartoon on one of Dudley's televisions where a falling character landed on a trampoline, and even as the image flashed through his brain he felt a surge of magic leave him, travelling ahead of him as the stairs in the school sprang to the sides of the walls, some with students still on them.

Something bright blue spread across the interior of the stairwell below him, and Harry twisted desperately, not wanting to hit headfirst. He managed in time and landed poorly, feet first, something in his right leg giving way with a rather sickening pop and tear that had him screaming in pain even as he bounced back up. He managed to land on his back, each successive bounce sending new waves of sickening agony through him until he was still, and able to scramble, shaking and panting for the nearest balcony. A bunch of Hufflepuffs reached for him anxiously, pulling him up and over the railing, catching him when he fainted.

0o0o0o0

"How's the leg?" Ron asked anxiously as Harry hobbled into their dorm room.

"Itchy," Harry grimaced. Apparently after his last little run in with a bludger he'd reached his limit for the broken bones spell and had to wait at least another four months before it could be cast on him. They'd be well into the Quidditch season by then, and Harry's current cumbersome plaster cast would be an unpleasant memory. He was hoping that Gryffindor didn't draw the first two matches of the season to allow him a bit of time to get out of plaster and back in shape, and meanwhile, his upper body strength was getting a huge workout.

Malfoy was gone. No amount of prevarication or money could get him out of trouble this time, and Harry couldn't say he was sad to see the back of the trouble maker, though the Headmaster was. Dumbledore worried that Malfoy would join the ranks of the Death Eaters at once, and an enemy that you could see was easier to deal with than one that was hidden. Harry could appreciate the sentiment, but didn't need the aggro right now. He'd be mature and grown up about Malfoy later, right now his cast was taking up most of his attention, when classes weren't.

"C'mere," Ron got up and helped Harry to get changed out of his student robes and into pyjamas. The house elves insisted that Harry go straight to his dorm when his duties for the day were finished, and they would deliver his meals - and Ron's - to his bed. Breakfast was the same, and lunch came to whatever classroom Harry happened to be in. He'd already asked Hermione to come up with some ideas about a thank you gift for the elves, making it clear that he wouldn't insult them with clothes.

Harry settled into bed with a sigh and Ron climbed up beside him. The only good thing about this whole mess was that Ron was able to spend more time with Harry as his 'caregiver'. Like now, when they had the dorm to themselves and could have a bit of a snog without fear of interruption. The house elves sent the tray up magically, not in person, which meant that they only had to beware of early returns from the Great Hall.

"Best pain killer there is," Harry sighed when they broke for air and snuggled in. Ron made a slightly fretful sound but didn't fuss, simply wrapping Harry in his arms and holding him tight. Both Ron and Hermione had to be given calming potions when they were brought to the hospital wing, believing Harry to be dead and splattered in the main foyer. In fact he'd been behind a set of screens, unconscious while Madam Pomfrey reset his broken shin and fractured knee. He'd also torn some ligaments, and was now taking multiple potions to help repair the damage. Unfortunately, the pain potions couldn't be full strength or there would be unpleasant side effects from their combination with the rest.

The only good thing about this was that Harry was finding a lot of shortcuts and back passages to class. A door would open or a section of wall would slide back as he passed, and Harry knew that whatever was guiding him was simply trying to save him some time and effort. He had a feeling that it was the castle itself, and sort of wished that there were something he could do to express his thanks.

Dinner appeared with a pop and Harry stirred reluctantly, kissing Ron once before sitting up and levitating the tray with a sigh. As usual it was loaded with enough food to feed four - most of which Ron would manage, though he'd nag Harry to eat more. The one time they'd managed to share a bed with very few clothes on Ron had been worried by Harry's very slender physique. The redhead had started monitoring Harry's food intake closely, and to be honest Harry didn't mind too much. The fact that Ron cared enough to make sure he ate properly was a source of comfort and delight.

Harry banished the tray when they were finished and Ron pulled out his homework, fetching books for Harry, though the green-eyed teen could have just summoned them. Hermione appeared ten minutes later and crawled up onto the bed with them, her own homework books in tow. The three of them would work until Hermione and Ron had to go and enforce the curfew with the other seventh year Prefects and Harry would get himself ready for sleep. The potions he took each night to repair the tissue damage caused when his bones had snapped and shifted tended to knock him out pretty quickly, and he'd had to abandon his study of Arithmancy for a little while. Ron and Hermione had volunteered to help him keep up with his marking, and Harry was glad that he was in the habit of keeping his preparation for each lesson he taught several weeks ahead. It allowed him to take it a little easy while he healed, though he'd have to work hard once the cast was off to get ahead again.

Nightly chores finished, Harry got back into bed and got himself comfortable. Neville and Seamus were in the dorm, completing their own nightly routine, and Ron came in with Dean a few minutes after curfew. The redhead got changed quickly and came to sit on Harry's bed. He handed the potions to Harry one at a time and then sat and rubbed Harry's chest in a wholly unmedicinal but never-the-less comforting manner, soothing Harry to sleep with that simple loving touch.

0o0o0o0


	10. Harry's Soul 3

0o0o0o0

Harry's Soul - 3

Harry grinned, a tight feral smile that would have startled his opponent had she had time to look over at him. He guided his broom flawlessly through the scrum of chasers; eyes fixed ahead, his whole body screaming 'snitch'. He changed direction without warning, sending his broom into an almost vertical dive, hearing the rush of air that meant his opponent was behind him, and tight on his tail. At the last moment, Harry pulled up, feeling the grass brush his robes, streaking along the ground at an incredible pace and not quite smiling in satisfaction as the crowd yelled it's approval and his opponent bounced along the ground for a moment, out of control.

This was his first match of the year, and the new Slytherin seeker was good - brilliant even. Harry had to psyche her out now, to avoid getting ploughed later. She chose to shadow his every move, relying on him to find the snitch and some undoubtedly dirty trick to beat him to it. She'd just received her first lesson - Harry didn't play around when it came to Quidditch. If he could only treat his classes like a Quidditch match he'd probably be smarter than Hermione, and also exhausted. The passion he put into his flying was not something he could deal with every day.

The crowd roared and a quick glance showed that Ron had once more kicked the quaffle out of goal, straight into Ginny's hands. She streaked up the pitch, dodging bludgers left and right, so Harry ran interference for her, harassing Slytherins beaters mercilessly. Although they still flew on the Nimbus 2001's that Malfoy's father had 'donated' to the team, the people that flew for Gryffindor outclassed them. No one knew better than Harry that it was the quality of the rider, not the broom that mattered.

Interference run, goal scored and house cheering, Harry resumed his position in the field, his eyes moving busily as he searched for the snitch. He kept a watch on his opponent, who had finally regained control of her broom, though it wasn't flying as smoothly as before and had a distinct forwards tilt to it. He grinned and swept the pitch with his gaze, keen eyes seeking that little glint of gold that could end this match and bury Slytherins hopes for the house cup.

For a moment he thought he was seeing things, and he squinted in order to see better. There was the glint all right, but just behind it was a second one. Two snitches? That wasn't possible. Madam Hooch was no amateur and she certainly wouldn't forget that she'd already released a ball. As he watched the snitch in the rear caught up with the snitch in the front and there was a bright flash that his fellow seeker noticed. Now there was only one snitch instead of two, and Abigail Poncelby was hot on its tail.

"No!" Harry shouted and surged forward, wringing every last ounce of speed from his broom, "Poncelby! Get away fro m it!"

She was drawing much closer and stretched out her hand, triumph written in every line of her body. As if sensing her, the snitch arrowed away sharply, and by then Harry was close enough for it to 'see' him. It headed right for him and Harry did the only thing he could think of. He put his broom into a desperate corkscrewing one eighty-degree flip and fled.

The crowd watching started to laugh hysterically as Harry barrelled through the scrum once more, desperately trying to avoid the snitch. He wasn't sure what would happen if he touched it, he only knew it would be bad.

Harry twisted and turned, sensing that the snitch was matching him movement for movement. If whatever the change was happened surrounded by students innocent people would get hurt. He slammed his feet onto the tail of his broom, hauling up on the handle and making a nearly vertical assent into the cold, clear blue sky, pouring as much of his magic as he could into the broom to get it to go faster. The tiny whirring sound of the snitches wings drew ever closer, and Harry waited until the last moment to pull his magic away from the broom and put it into a defensive shield for himself.

He'd acted just in time as a huge concussive blast roared in his ears, causing the broom to buck and falter as the huge explosion buffeted it. Once more, size proved not to be a factor as Harry desperately tried to maintain his shield against the fireball he was now flying through. A single breach and he'd be fried to a crisp. Dazed by the noise, instinct once more took over, and he fought to right his failing broom, letting it drop towards the ground quickly as the fireball ceased to expand and defied all known laws of physics by starting to contract. Harry felt that if he were still caught in the nimbus of the fireball he'd be trapped forever in a burning hell.

Desperate to escape he did the only thing he could think of and let go of his broom. Even badly damaged, the protective spells on the broom would try to lower it slowly to the ground. Harry needed freefall, and needed it now. He let go of Sirius first gift to him, and plummeted for the ground, straining to keep his shields in place long enough, until he was falling into blessedly clear air as the fireball contracted with a pop.

There was a whoosh of displaced air and the next thing he knew strong arms and a broom were beneath him, and the familiar scent of his Ron overwhelmed him. Harry managed to make his fingers close tightly around whatever part of his friend he was in contact with and then let the peaceful dark take over for just a little while.

0o0o0o0

"Two snitches?" Madam Hooch's voice had a distinct waver in it, but she sounded better after drinking the first stiff shot of liquor that Professor McGonagall had poured for her. She was now on her second and Harry was eyeing her glass with something approaching longing. He'd only fainted for a moment, coming to himself as Ron landed and called his name, the fear in his voice so evident that Harry would have come back from the _dead_ to dispel it.

Professor McGonagall gave him a considering look, poured a second stiff glass, and handed it to Harry without a word. Harry smiled at her and willed his hands steady long enough to get the glass to his mouth. He'd been forced to let go of Ron and send his love to the Gryffindor tower, with the rest of the school similarly banished to their dormitories, the teachers demanding to know what had happened and leading him to the staff room. The Headmaster and Professors Snape, Flitwick and Heggerty were even now combing the pitch and the surrounding area for evidence. Harry managed to get the cup to his mouth and took an injudicious gulp.

"HHHHHHHH!!!! Hit the spot!" he wheezed, eyes watering and throat on fire. McGonagall smirked at him, but not unkindly. He took a few steadying breaths and his next sip was much more discrete. It felt like a little bit of liquid fire, warming and steadying his nerves as it worked through his blood.

"Should we be feeding a student liquor?" Hooch mumbled into her glass and McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her.

"Number one, he is of age and has just had a nasty shock. Number two, in this room he is not my student, but the school's apprentice, and as far as I know the staff are allowed to pour each other the occasional drink, and number three…"

"I'd never drink anywhere in the school without the approval of the teachers," Harry interrupted, and his head of House subsided, patting his wrist fondly and topping his glass up. It was true - Harry didn't want to risk his apprenticeship or let his teachers down.

"You saw two snitches?" Madam Hooch returned to the other bone of contention, deciding to ignore McGonagall's snit for now. Harry nodded and told his tale for the third time since he had been stuffed into the squashy paisley armchair by the fireplace. This fire was well contained and let off soothing warmth, so Harry didn't have to add a phobia of fire to his list of worries.

"There was one behind the other at first, and then there was a flash which attracted Poncelby's attention. The snitch seemed to notice her, and flew away from her, and as I was heading right for her, it latched onto me. I only knew that something bad would happen if I touched it, so I tried to get away, and when I realised that it was faster than me anyway, I headed for clear sky in the hope that whatever happened wouldn't affect the others."

"And a good thing you did," Madam Hooch shivered, "If that ball of fire had unleashed while you were still in the playing area it would have vaporised half the stands and both teams. You were nearly five hundred feet straight up when it hit you, and even then the edge of the fireball scorched the very top of the highest viewing platforms."

"No," Harry paled and sipped his drink for courage. Now he was used to the taste it was rather pleasant and very soothing. McGonagall nodded, her face pinched with worry.

"How on earth you managed to get so high so fast I'll never know. You were a blur," she murmured and Hooch looked up sharply.

"That's a point! How _did_ you get your broom to fly so fast? The Firebolt is quick, but not that quick!"

"After you and Professor Flitwick stripped it down that Christmas, I was curious about the charms and spells on the broom. I decided I needed to know more about it, so I got out a couple of books and did some detection spells of my own. I located each one, and today, when I needed to be faster than the snitch was, I poured my own magic into the speed spell to go faster. I'd just taken it out to put up a shield spell when the snitch caught me," Harry sighed, and McGonagall put an arm around him, urging him to finish his drink. The liquor dulled the tensions he'd been feeling, and he leaned into her touch for a moment, enjoying the protection he could feel emanating from his teacher.

"That was very lucky, Potter," Hooch muttered, "Very lucky indeed."

"It was," the Headmaster agreed from the doorway. He strode over to Harry and bent to look him over while Harry and McGonagall asked what he'd found - almost simultaneously. Dumbledore chuckled and patted Harry's hand, tactfully ignoring the empty glass and smell of alcohol.

"Unfortunately, we found nothing out of place," he sighed, straightening, "Who ever cast the spell to combine the two snitches was very skilled at covering their tracks. I am confident that this was not the work of someone at the school, but a long distance operation, probably carried out by Voldemort himself."

"Goodness," McGonagall fretted, and Harry put the glass aside.

"If there's nothing else I con do, sir, I'd like to go back to my house," he smiled when Dumbledore gave his permission with a nod and a pat to the hand and got up, his head swimming a little, but otherwise no worse for wear. As he headed for the door he heard Dumbledore instruct his Head of House to ask the elves in the kitchen to ensure that there was a bit of calming potion served in the evening meal, for the students consumption. It sounded like just the ticket to Harry and he headed into the corridor with a slight drag to his step.

A door opened in the wall right in front of him, and Harry headed through it gratefully, mumbling a quiet thanks. He patted the wall as he climbed the five shallow steps, and the door swung open, letting him into his dorm, bypassing the common room and the Fat Lady. A glance over his shoulder showed that the door disappeared the moment it was closed, but by then he was concentrating on other things, namely the redhead sobbing in the middle of his bed, still wearing the red and gold woollen Quidditch uniform and white pants.

Harry trudged to Ron's side, rolled onto the bed and tugged Ron to lie on top of him. Ron struggled for a moment until he recognised who was manhandling him, and then clutched Harry tightly.

"Prat," the mumble was audible to Harry only because Ron has his face buried in Harry's neck.

"Git," Harry replied warmly, "You're my hero you know."

Ron contested that statement with a rather vigorous squirm and Harry had to hold on tightly to stop the redhead getting away. No matter how much Ron bucked and wriggled, Harry managed to keep them both on the bed, though the covers were messed up beyond hope. If either one of them wanted to sleep in that bed tonight it would have to be remade.

"You are," he insisted, "You didn't give up Ron! You were right where I needed you to be, and in the end, that's all that matters! You trusted in me to get halfway out, and were there to catch me when I was falling."

Ron subsided, muttering imprecations into Harry's collar that he didn't listen too hard to. He simply rubbed one of Ron's arms and lay there, happy to be alive and thoroughly pinned down. He was feeling a little floaty from a combination of shock and alcohol, and the vigorous gymnastics of a moment ago didn't help.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside the dorm, but Harry recognised them as Hermione's and didn't try to move Ron off too hard, knowing that she'd be joining the redhead on top of him at any moment, and wouldn't think twice about the fact that Ron was hugging Harry to death. Sure enough, she didn't get much past his friends name before squealing and throwing herself on top of the boys, making it a very untidy jumble of arms and legs for a moment. Her cry attracted the rest of Harry's dorm, and he would later swear that he heard Neville say, 'what the hell' before piling on too. Dean and Seamus joined him, as did Lavender and Parvati who had followed them up.

It was hard to breathe under that mass of giggling, slightly insane teens, and Harry protested as best as he could. Ron and Hermione added their voices to his and eventually he was able to sit up, unencumbered and breathing heavily.

"Sounds like Harry had fun," Dean's sly tone had everyone laughing or blushing - or both - and the green eyed teen did his best to put his robes in some kind of order.

"I think I need to get changed, and we all definitely need to get to dinner," Harry said when he'd regained his breath, and the others drifted towards the door or their own trunks. As it was the weekend they were allowed to wear casual clothes, and after glaring to get Lavender to leave, Harry pulled out a set of casual Wizarding robes.

"Just Harry, tonight then?" Ron's voice was soft in his ear as he fiddled with a bit of Harry's collar, and he grinned at the red head in relief. He did want to be just Harry tonight, not the school's apprentice, or Gryffindors seeker, or anything else. Only Ron, and possibly Hermione, would realise that from a clue as subtle as his clothes. Ron smiled at him as he pulled back and Harry followed his friend down to the common room, urging everyone there to head to the Great Hall.

He ended up walking in the middle of a very protective crowd, which parted for Mark when they reached the main staircase and then closed around him and the upset child. Harry held the boy close and sat with an arm around him at the table, Ron's arm also holding Mark close. Their eyes met over the top of the boys head and Harry's gaze promised Ron that they'd sleep in the same bed that night, no matter what.

0o0o0o0

The Daily Prophet got hold of the story and made as much of a fuss as it could. The day after the story hit the headlines, broom catalogues from all over started arriving for Harry in the mail. He'd decided to keep playing, but only after getting the approval of his Headmaster and the rest of his team. His fellow players hadn't been worried about the possibility of another attack, because as Ron said 'Voldemort is many things but subtle isn't one.'

The shock of hearing Ron say the dreaded name broke the tension and Harry had laughed with the rest, silently vowing to ensure that no harm came to them that he could prevent. Hence, the broom catalogues. Mark and Ron were fascinated, and pored over them no less avidly than Harry did. Between the two of them they had long lists of features and details for Harry to look at, comparing each model of broom in the catalogues. Hermione was heard to complain that Ron didn't work this hard on his homework. Knowing that Harry didn't want another Firebolt or Nimbus kept the list to a reasonable length, but his friend and boyfriend were so excited about what Harry might choose to buy that the lists became quite complex.

Harry also had the additional worry about security. Ordering a broom by catalogue didn't seem like such a smart idea. The company was bound to 'leak' the order to gloat over their competition, and that meant there was a risk that the Death Eaters would get their hands on it first and add a few jinxes of their own. Harry didn't want to have to wait until Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick had once again stripped his broom down and gone over it inch by inch. In the end he went to Professor McGonagall to ask her advice. He realised that he'd never bought a broom before - he'd always flown gifts given to him by others.

"As a student of this school, you are only permitted to leave the grounds for the sanctioned Hogsmede visits," McGonagall twinkled just like Dumbledore sometimes and it really worried Harry. He didn't need his Head of House to go as batty as the Headmaster. If both the adults in charge of the school were nutty as a fruitcake then they were in serious trouble.

"However, members of staff are not restricted to the grounds providing their absences do not clash with their duties. As the school's apprentice, you are eligible to leave on legitimate errands, provided you have applied for a leave of absence."

Harry was on to her game in a flash and he hid a smile behind his own teacup. He put it down in the saucer and tilted his head inquisitively. This was a sort of game they played with each other from time to time, a gentle sort of teasing that Harry cherished more than words could ever express. Since she'd become his mentor, McGonagall had showed herself to be quite the human being, and their positive relationship was one that would impact forever on Harry's life.

"To whom should I apply?" he asked politely, and watched his mentor stifle a smile behind her cup for a moment, fighting not to laugh.

"Your mentor would be able to authorise that for you," McGonagall fixed him with a look and Harry smiled sweetly, a look she had once told him sent shivers down her spine. Apparently his father used the same smile when trying to get around her.

"Professor McGonagall, please may I have leave to visit Diagon Alley this Saturday?" he asked formally, batting the conversational ball firmly back into her court. She put her teacup down and pretended to think it over, smoothing her skirt over her knee and tapping a finger on the arm of her chair.

"Why yes, I believe that would be convenient," she smiled when he did, and they finished their tea in silence. He offered to run errands for her while he was in town, and she promised that if she had any she'd leave a list on his desk, Friday evening. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he'd be running errands for quite a few of the staff, but didn't mind. He was planning to pull aside both the Weasley's, Hermione and Mark at some point and make the same offer. With his ability to 'pop' things back to Hogwarts, he wouldn't have to worry about walking around with lots of bags or packages.

0o0o0o0o0

Mark had been a bit tearful that he couldn't come with Harry, and Harry had been on the verge of losing his temper before realising that Mark probably wanted to get him a present. Harry had promised that they'd travel back to London on the school train for the Christmas holidays and go straight to Diagon Alley to do some 'last minute shopping'. Mark could Floo to the Burrow from the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry would 'pop' home. The boy cheered up at that promise, and Harry accepted the short list of presents that he could buy for his ward, along with Hermione, Ron and Ginny's lists.

Harry left early in the morning, heading first to Gringotts to check on the amount of money left in his vault. It seemed odd to him that it never really diminished, but this was explained when he took a closer look at the spells on the vault itself. The money was being paid from a trust account that had originally gone to his father. Harry made a mental note to look further into this when school ended, and didn't notice the odd looks that his Goblin escort was giving him. If he'd stopped to think about it, staring intently at the wall while he tried to read the spells on it was less than subtle.

Banking completed, Harry spent the morning shopping for others. The Apothecary dispatched Professor Snape's order immediately, and Harry was glad he didn't have to worry about hauling the smelly ingredients somewhere quiet to send them back to the school. The teachers' errands didn't take long, and Harry sent them to the appropriate offices with receipts and change. His friends took a bit longer as he wanted to ensure he got just the right thing, but eventually he'd sent them to sit on the beds of the Gryffindors, or to his office. His own Christmas shopping didn't take long either and was made easier by knowing what the others were getting each other. He had a lot of fun picking a gift for Mr and Mrs Weasley and the twins as well, as Ron had told him that the whole family would be at the Burrow. He found a cool earring for Bill and a really decent cloak for Charlie that was flame retardant. Those gifts also went to his office, away from prying eyes, and Harry had a quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron with the feeling that the morning had gone well.

After lunch Harry headed straight for Quality Quidditch Supplies, a sense of purpose in his stride. While the various broom wrights had sent him brochures, the only place he'd be able to pick up a broom in Diagon Alley was the famous sporting shop, which stocked all the current lines, from family value to extreme luxury, to top of the line sporting. The door opened easily under his hand, and Harry grinned, feeling right at home as he moved through the racks of flying cloaks, team strips and protective gear. He stopped for a moment to pick up some merchandise for Ginny, Ron and Mark, as well as a book on the history of broom making for Hermione. The brooms were in the back, held on racks along the walls and in freestanding floor displays. There were even a few suspended from the roof.

He spotted the familiar Firebolts and Nimbus range and drifted over for a nostalgic look, stroking the Nimbus 2000 with wistful fingers. That model was still very popular, especially with the younger market. It was more affordable than the later models or the other brands, but still light and manoeuvrable. He left those racks with a sigh, having decided privately that once he broke, destroyed or otherwise demolished a broom he'd go to a new brand or model, until he found one that was sturdy enough to outlast him, and yet fast enough to suit his needs. He didn't want to play Quidditch on a clunker, even though Ron had proved to Harry that the Gryffindor Seeker didn't need an internationally recognised racing broom to catch the snitch. He could do it on one of the schools banged up brooms if he put his mind to it, but didn't like the minute shudders, list and drag that each broom had developed after flying for hundreds of students.

"If you'd like me to take that to the counter for you sir," the sales assistants voice made Harry jump, but he smiled at him in thanks and ignored the way the dark eyes flicked to his forehead. Among the brochures that Harry had received had been a single piece of parchment with the specs for a broom that sounded just right. It was called the 'Swift' and if it could do what it claimed, Harry would be very interested in giving the broom a test flight.

"We have a testing room in the back, Mr Potter," the sales assistant had returned, and Harry's eyes spotted a badge that read 'Bartholomew Hibbert - Manager' on the front of the sporting robes he was wearing.

"That would be great," Harry smiled, "Because I was wondering if you had a model here called the 'Swift'. I thought the write up sounded good, but I want to check it out first,"

"Ah," Hibbert's voice sounded very pleased, "A young man after my own heart. The smaller companies often make the better brooms, because they can _focus_. Cleansweep is a good solid broom, but not a racer - they do better for beginners and every day things. The Firebolt and Nimbus line are all well and good, but the Swift…"

As he spoke he was leading Harry over to a small display off in the corner. The brooms on this rack were simple and undecorated but for the name of the model, which was branded onto the handle. Each one was a different colour wood, and Harry recognised the rich sheen of mahogany, the pale colours of beech and the silver shine of ash. There was the usual oak and birch, though Harry didn't fancy riding one of them. Hibbert waved his wand and the stand floated up off the floor and led the way through the aisles to the back of the store, through a door that appeared when the managed softly commanded it to and into a room that appeared to hold an international Quidditch playing pitch, complete with blue sky.

"Right then," the manager waved the door shut and looked Harry over, "Do you want to change, young man?"

"No, thanks," Harry shook his head, "If I can't fly in normal clothes then what's the use?"

He'd deliberately worn casual Wizarding clothes today, with the knowledge that they were similar in style to his school uniform, which he'd first learnt to fly in. The manager nodded and gestured for Harry to make his first choice. He looked the rack over carefully and decided to try the mahogany broom first. It's tail twigs were in a similar shape to the Nimbus 2000, and it leapt from the ground to Harry's hand upon his gently spoken command. He mounted carefully and then took off, flying only a lap before landing beside the manager and shaking his head. Something about the way it dragged in the tail - only slightly - told him it was better suited to a heavier player, and the manager nodded in approval when Harry voiced his opinion, couched in a question.

"You're right," Hibbert nodded sagely, "That's designed more for a Beater - they tend to be the heavier players on the field and need a solid base for their beating."

The beeches tail twigs were longer than the mahogany, and tapered abruptly at the end. This one also responded instantly to Harry's command and seemed to vibrate eagerly as he mounted. Harry took it for a lap and then a sprint. When that seemed to go well he gained some height and then went into one of his trademark dive-and-roll combinations that Ron always said made him sick to watch. The broom did well enough in that Harry didn't end up ploughed into the ground, but wasn't as responsive as he'd like.

"Chasers broom?" Harry asked lightly as he put it back on the rack. His face was flushed, and the heady feeling that he always associated with flying was strumming through him.

"Precisely," Hibbert beamed in a very fond fashion at him, "Well spotted young man."

"It's well balanced, but not up to flights of fancy," Harry patted the handle as he returned it to his rack, "I need something a little more responsive. I'm guessing that the oak is for keepers."

"What makes you say that?" Hibbert seemed to be testing him, and Harry pointed to the tail of the broom, which was a lot wider than the others, though still quite sleek. The handle was a bit thicker too, which made it a useful club to knock the quaffle aside. Harry explained what he was thinking and Hibbert confirmed it with a bounce.

He tried the birch, which seemed to be quite streamlined. The tail was sharply tapered and much shorter than the others. The handle was quite short too, though Harry fit on the broom easily. It did well in the laps and sprints, and was responsive to his request to climb, but the moment he tried to roll it he knew it wouldn't suit him. The broom resisted quite fiercely, and Harry took it back to the rack.

"I give up," he grinned at Hibbert who laughed and clapped his shoulder. Harry - who was used to Hagrid's shoulder claps - managed to stay upright and not whimper in unexpected pain. The manager had quite the arm on him.

"Referee's," Hibbert said shortly, "And couriers, longer distance flights. It's for the crowd that have to get from a to b quickly, and aren't interested in fancy flight."

"Well, I hope the ash is up to it," Harry lifted it from the rack and looked it over. It was beautifully balanced, from the tapered handle to the oddly shaped tail twigs. These were fastened to the broom with the usual weave, and then halfway down they were fastened again before tapering to an elegant point. Harry walked into the middle of the pitch with it and placed it gently on the ground before extending his hand.

"Up," he said softly, and it leapt from the turf, coming to a stop the second it brushed his palm. He mounted carefully and kicked off gently, sensing that this broom was particularly responsive. He lapped the pitch a few times and then did the usual sprints, climb, dive-and-roll. It performed superbly through all these moves, and Harry expanded his repertoire with a few sloth grip rolls and Wronski Feints.

There was a loud whistle, and Harry looked down to see Hibbert holding a familiar shape in his hand. Harry nodded consent, hovering with eyes closed for a count of fifty. He opened his eyes and looked around for the familiar glint, setting his broom into gentle motion, letting him circle the pitch watchfully. Two minutes later he'd spotted the snitch, and eight minutes and several incredible series of broom acrobatics later he'd caught it. Thoroughly winded he took the snitch back to Hibbert, who was gaping at him in astonishment.

"It took the English Seeker fifteen minutes of chasing to catch that one!" Hibbert said faintly, "This is an international standard snitch!"

Harry shrugged it off, mumbling something about beginners luck. The snitch _had_ been hard to catch, leading him a very merry dance and forcing some very fancy flying out of him. The eight minute chase had been a blur of exhilaration from beginning to end, a feeling that was dulled a little by the look in Hibbert's eyes. Harry was only glad the manager hadn't been taking pictures like Colin Creevey. He guided the broom back into the sky until he was hovering at head height and performed the final test. Often during Quidditch practice, Ron would ask him to hover to one side and watch the new plays that he was drilling the chasers on. The redhead liked to have a second pair of eyes watch the plays. Harry had found that he could sit on the Firebolt, his hands on his thighs as he watched the chasers go through their paces. He'd flown the Nimbus 2000 at top speed with no hands as well.

Harry sat back on the saddle spell, and put his hands on his thighs lightly, letting his body and the broom adjust. When he felt no change in his posture, he closed his eyes and slowly lifted his arms out to the sides. Once more the broom remained perfectly balanced, though Hibbert gasped in astonishment. Harry opened his eyes and leaned forward a little, urging the broom into motion, his arms still stretched out wide. He did a lap and then landed in front of the manager easily, his eyes sparking with excitement.

"I'll take it!"

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry carded his hand through Marks hair absently as he watched the snowfall outside his office window. Since the exploding snitch incident, Mark had steadily become quieter and more emotional. The first anniversary of his parents murder was also coming up, as was his first Christmas without them. The holiday was only a few days away, and though Mark had initially been full of plans and questions, those had slowly slid into the background.

A huge, ugly, purple paisley chair had appeared in his office, courtesy of the castle, with a matching footstool, just the right height to support the cumbersome cast he'd worn at the start of the year. It had stayed around after the cast came off, and perfect for cuddling his adopted little brother when the boy was upset. Harry didn't mind doing this as they hadn't had much time outside of classes together this term, what with the sittings for the school portrait and the various accidents and incidents. The painter had been horrified by the clunky white object on Harry's leg, and shuffled Harry's sittings to the very last slot, to give him time to get the ugly thing off. He'd been relieved at the reprieve, and grateful that the artist had allowed him to work while she painted.

The portrait process was fascinating. Harry sat in his pose and worked, ignoring the artist as she cast spell after spell over him, recording the results on the canvas accurately. Now and then she would request that he perform a certain action or look in a certain direction. They'd discussed at the start what he'd wear, and in the end he'd chosen one of the casual sets of Wizarding clothes in the deep green that Ron liked best on him. He'd pulled Ron's gift from last summer out to hang where it could be seen clearly, and Hedwig had come to perch on his raised knee as he sat in the window casing of his office. The artist had told him that the window's outlook would reflect the seasons, and had Hedwig fly in and out of the window, landing and launching from his knee. Harry was glad that his beautiful owl would be preserved for all time.

Mark shifted in Harry's lap a little and Harry hugged him closer automatically. The portraits would be revealed today; in fact he and Mark were going to the Great Hall to view them together. Ron had been very understanding about Mark's need for some time alone with Harry, and the green-eyed teen had made a promise to his love that he'd be rewarded soon. Ron had gotten a very lusty look in his eyes and Harry had kissed him soundly and left him scheming. He trusted the redhead not to want anything they weren't ready for yet.

The clock on his desk chimed and Harry looked away from the peaceful scene outside. He was curious about the portraits of the rest of the staff, and definitely wanted to see Professor McGonagall's. The past year had shown him a very human side to his Head of House, one that he'd enjoyed getting to know and talking to. Minerva McGonagall was a wonderful woman, with more experience under her belt than most people thought.

"Time to go, Mark," Harry murmured into hair that was beginning to brush the boys shoulders. Mark shook his head and tightened his grip in response. This called for extreme measures, and the use of a nickname that only saw light of day rarely.

"Little brother," Harry sighed, "It's going to be ok."

"Promise," the whisper was fierce and Harry tightened his arms even more. He hadn't been able to discover what was upsetting Mark so badly, but was determined to comfort the boy back to a semblance of his usual self by Christmas. Molly Weasley was a fantastic mother, but Mark just didn't want anyone else when he was in this mood and Harry would hate to see her feelings hurt by the boys rejection.

"Promise," he vowed and Mark let him put the boy on his feet and lead him by the hand to the office door. They walked in silence together, and joined the throng of students waiting in the school foyer. He spotted Ron's flaming locks and Hermione's bushy hair on the other side of the foyer and waved to them.

The doors swung open and Professor Dumbledore twinkled at his students as they entered eagerly. The paintings had been hung along the Great Hall, down the long sides, and the House tables had been cleared out for the moment. The paintings would hang in place until dinner that night, when they would be moved to a long gallery in the wing near the school library. Eventually they would be dispersed to join the many paintings through out the school. Professor Dumbledore's would of course be moved to his office once he retired from his post, to advise the next Head.

Nearest the door, Argus Filch and Mrs Norris stood scowling down at the throng of students. The painting said nothing, just glared, and Mark shifted a little closer to Harry in response. Professor Flitwick was next, waving merrily and standing on his usual stack of books at his crowded desk, his formal robes in his House colours making a striking statement and his eyes twinkling brightly at the many students. Harry let Mark lead the way, passing some teachers without a second glance. Professor Sprout was also in her formal robes, but outside, a few carefully chosen plants set around her. There was just a tiny bit of earth on her fingertips, as if she'd just turned from potting a plant. Madam Hooch was in her referee strip, posed on her broom, and Hagrid and Fang sat together on Hagrid's front steps, the door to his hut open. He beamed and waved at the people passing, winking now and then to a few. Mark had stopped and grinned up at the half giants portrait and confided to Harry that 'he was awfully nice to me'. Given that Hagrid had a soft spot for those who were troubled, Harry wasn't surprised.

The Headmaster and Fawkes started the other wall, and Harry beamed up at his role model. He'd finally understood that Dumbledore was as human as the rest of them, and just as prone to making mistakes. The Headmasters robes were as bright as ever, and a tin of lemon drops sat close to hand. Professor Snape was next, glaring down at them all, his silver and green robes splendid against a dark background. The artist had captured not only his temperament, but also his profession in the careful placement of several books and phials. Three pictures down, Professor McGonagall beamed at them regally, splendid in her gold and crimson tartan robes, one of her trademark twisted hats firmly affixed to her head with a Gryffindor badge in the brim. She held her wand in her hand, and Harry detected the shadow of her animagus on the curtain behind her.

Lavender and Parvati were standing stock still in front of the next picture, and after a glance, Harry could see why. Professor Trelawney's portrait was still, yet the likeness was perfect. Her name and the usual dates of birth and death were affixed to a plaque in her frame, as well as the words 'in kind memorial'. Harry patted the sniffling girls shoulders and let Mark move them along. Two pictures down, Ron and Hermione were staring at the last picture on the wall and Harry glanced up at it, curious to see who had captivated them so. His mouth ran dry when he realised it was his. Hedwig was ruffling her feathers, and the snow in the window matched the fall outside.

"Harry," Mark breathed, "It's great."

"Thanks," Harry rubbed a hand through the long hair of the other boy, "It was kind of fun in the end."

'Wicked,' Ron mouthed at him and Harry grinned a little shrugging and urging them all out of the hall. He had a vague idea that a snow fight was just what Mark needed to take his mind off things, and it would be more fun with four of them than two. He left his portrait without a second glance.

0o0o0o0

The trip to Diagon Alley with Mark had been fun. The two of them had enjoyed a hot chocolate at Forlean Fontesques parlour before heading into the jostling crowd of last minute shoppers. Harry had picked up a few books and some treats for the various owls in the family - Ron's, Marks, Mrs Weasley's and his, as well as sending some to Hermione's owl by courier - and Mark had darted from his side a few times with a breathless instruction to 'wait here for me' while the boy completed his own last minute secretive shopping.

Mark had Flooed to the Burrow with his parcels and Harry had popped into the kitchen a few moments later. Mrs Weasley greeted him with a hug, and then caught Mark as he flew out of the fireplace. She had him upright, soot free and cloakless within minutes, and then started fussing over his hair.

"What's this? A fellow long hairier?" Bill called from the front room and entered behind Ron, "Hello, there!"

Mark was backing away from Mrs Weasley's wand and turned to fling himself at Harry, a reaction that had Mrs Weasley's eyes wide with shock. Harry gave her a very significant look of warning, one hand cupped protectively over the long locks that Mark used as a curtain to hide behind at times.

"I'll make sure he keeps it clean and groomed," Harry broke the silence and Mrs Weasley put her wand away, agreeing in a warm voice that was at odds with the sadness in her eyes, and patting Mark's head lightly.

"I sent your packages to your room on the bus, Mark," Harry firmly peeled the boy off, "If you're going to wrap them you should go now while there's no one there. Ron and I need to look it over later. You'll find wrapping paper and tape in the library, and the scissors in the usual spot in the kitchen."

They would be staying on the bus as all the Weasley's - Percy included - were coming home for Christmas. Having Ron's room free would make it easier to fit everyone in, as the adult children were no longer used to sharing rooms with each other - except for Fred and George who lived above their store.

The kitchen door closed behind Mark and Ron - who was going to show the boy how to get through the canvas panels that had acted as a door while the bus was shut up. Mrs Weasley had suggested installing them as weather shields, though they weren't used on the trip at all, because they'd enjoyed a run of really warm weather.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley," Harry apologised immediately, "But he won't have his hair cut no matter who suggests it. He ties it back for lessons. I can tell him to do it here, as well."

"That's all right, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, "We want him to be comfortable with us too."

"If he's having problems I can give him some hints," Bill offered, and Harry grinned at the eldest son, grateful for the support.

"No earrings," Harry said firmly, "I can just about cope with the hair, and Hermione and Ginny both let me practice pulling theirs back so I could teach him not to look like a scarecrow, but if you talked him into an earring as well…"

Bill laughed, and Mrs Weasley kissed his cheek, muttering about 'such a dear boy', and making him blush. Mr Weasley opened the kitchen door and shouted his usual greeting, getting a chorus back. He kissed his wife and then pinned Harry with a stern look.

"What's with the 'Mr Weasley'? You may as well call us mum and dad now," the balding Wizard said firmly, "What with you and Ron together and all."

Harry blushed and stammered something that was unintelligible, much to the family's amusement. Molly took pity on him and sent him into the kitchen to help with dinner preparations, asking for a couple of cheesecakes. He started crushing biscuits for the base automatically while some butter melted in a saucepan, trying to come to grips with the knowledge that Ron had apparently come out to his parents without telling his lover that he'd done so. Deciding that he and Ron would have a little 'chat' later about not making important decisions without telling the other person what you'd done, Harry focussed on getting the bases moulded just right and then started whipping up the fillings.

Ron came in with Mark about an hour later, and they both lit up at the thought of some of Harry's lemon cheesecake, which was the flavour he'd decided to go with. Mrs Weasley kicked him out of her domain once he'd completed his set task and Ron had smiled in pleasure when Harry called her mum. He also paled at the look that Harry shot him, then grinned kind of weakly. Revenge was a dish bet served cold, though Harry was relieved that the family knew and he wouldn't have to feel like a sneak all holidays.

They went into the front room with the others. Charlie was due to arrive in time for dinner, and the twins had Flooed over while Harry was in the kitchen. Ginny was already there, and Mr Weasley decided that now would be a good time to decorate the family tree, which was sitting in the corner of the front room, sending a nice pine scent wafting all over. They all traipsed up to the attic to retrieve the boxes marked 'decorations' and made an incredible amount of cheerful noise as they set to work. Each member of the family had a bauble with their name and a likeness of them to set on the tree, where they could smile and wave at the family, and Harry was grateful that there was one for himself, and Mark.

The magical ornaments were a novelty to Harry, and if he hadn't felt secure with the Weasley's he probably wouldn't have let his curiosity get the better of him as he poked and pried into each fascinating box. Even Mark was grown up compared to Harry's behaviour, though the Weasley's didn't seem to mind, teasing and indulging him as the mood took them. He didn't realise that Arthur and Molly both watched him with something akin to sorrow in their eyes as he enjoyed the first family Christmas that he could remember.

The ornaments moved and twinkled and sang as the mood took them, and Harry soon learned that they would even fight with each other and some had to be kept separated. Ron knotted a wooden soldier to its branch quite tightly while Bill knotted a maid on the other side of the tree over her shrill protests and the soldier's imprecations.

"They tend to crawl around to the back of the tree together if you catch my drift," Ron muttered and Harry laughed, handing Ron another figurine. Mark and the twins were struggling with the garland, which was trying to wrap around them instead of the mantelpiece. Ginny was smirking, her wand concealed in a fold of her skirt, and Harry decided to leave the four of them to it. Mr Weasley was hanging mistletoe in the doorway, and called his wife over to test it out.

0o0o0o0


	11. Harry's Soul 4

Guess What! It's FINISHED! (I'm a bad person for not updating earlier, but I am now) Thanks for the nice comments, and enjoy the rest of the chapters!

0o0o0o0

Harry's Soul - 4

Dinner was noisy and crowded and comfortable. Mark was in good spirits, which let Harry relax. He'd been worried about his charge, and even Ron hadn't been able to help, as Mark had only wanted Harry. The worn strip of leather around Harry's wrist was getting quite a workout over the last few days. The cheesecake didn't survive long enough to become left overs, as everyone had second or third helpings. Ron and Mark made rapturous noises about his four cheese lasagne, and Arthur stated that they'd try it tomorrow night and 'give your mother a night off from cooking'. Harry was too caught up over the whole mother thing to mind about the cooking, and agreed blithely.

Everyone retired to the front room while Charlie Bill and Ginny bickered over the washing up, and Mrs Weasley went upstairs. The twins looked tempted, but were told to behave by their father and subsided by the fire to play chess. Ron got Mark interested in a game of gob stones and Arthur drew Harry into a discussion of his apprenticeship. Mrs Weasley returned with a bushel of presents floating behind her, and Harry stretched his magic a little to pop his gifts into place with hers. People drifted off singly to add their own, until the space beneath the tree was overfull with garish wrapping paper and lopsided ribbons.

When everyone was gathered again in the front room, Molly cleared her throat for their attention. Harry had Mark on his lap by that point, the boy half asleep from being overfed at dinner, over excited whilst decorating and over indulged in Mrs Weasley's bedtime drinking chocolate and warm scones. When it was time for the boy to go to bed, Harry would go too, so he wasn't alone on the bus. They trusted him, but didn't want him to feel isolated. Ron was planning to go as well and Harry was comfortably certain they could find something to do together. He was contemplating the spell that would turn their two singles into a king sized bed upstairs when Mrs Weasley had cleared her throat and smiled up at her obligingly.

"I want to talk to you about tomorrows dinner," she said firmly, "Percy will be joining us, and I want you all to behave yourselves."

She was looking at the twins in particular, who did their best to look innocent. It was about as convincing as always, which didn't help. Mark looked up at Harry curiously and he smiled reassurance at the boy. His ward hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Percy Weasley yet, and Harry could only hope that the former Prefect and Head Boy would be able to keep his lectures contained until Mark was in bed, and Harry on the bus with him.

"We'll behave if he does," Charlie muttered, "You should see some of the letters he's sent me. Lecturing about how I should help him make you both see sense, and how I should be managing my career. If I wanted to be stuck in an office I'd have taken up old Woodmere's suggestions."

"He's right," Ron spoke up unexpectedly, "He's even written to tell me that I should break all ties with a certain violent criminal liar that we all know."

"Yes well, Mundungus Fletcher isn't the most savoury of people, for all he's in the Order. I've never seen him be violent though," Molly sniffed, and Ron shook his head.

"He wasn't talking about Fletcher," Ron jerked his head in Harry's direction, unseen by the drowsy Mark. People all over the room stiffened in outrage and Harry rolled his eyes and pulled a face to show that he wasn't bothered by it. Sensing that the discussion was about to get a lot louder and feeling that it was better that the Weasley's had this out without an audience, he said his goodnights to them in a warm voice and got up, carrying Mark as if the boy weighed no more than a feather.

A quick heating charm kept them warm on the short walk to the bus, and he got his charge cleaned, changed and in bed in very short order, sitting with the boy until he was deeply asleep. He checked that Rameses was set up with water and food before heading up to his own owl.

Hedwig hooted at him happily and he willingly became her walking perch, taking her outside so she could go hunting for the night before going into the library and starting work on his planning for the second term - his second last as a student at Hogwarts, though he would remain when his friends left to pursue their own careers.

0o0o0o0

Ron had dragged him up to bed - which they transfigured together - and Harry had waited until his friend was asleep to head back down to keep working. Once more he'd gotten a nap at dawn in order to appear refreshed and after breakfast he'd plunged back into his work. Luckily Ron and Mark were used to this pattern by now, and they would spend their day together rather than hanging around Harry. He joined them for lunch and listened as Mark almost chattered about the snow village he was building with Ron and Ginny - an apparently complex task as they had decided to make the buildings hollow with windows and chimneys and everything. Mrs Weasley had pointed discretely to the camera on the mantelpiece and Harry had grinned. The photo albums of his life with Ron were expanding almost daily.

He finished early, packing up though he wasn't done yet in order to make the requested lasagne. He was planning on making two big pans and steaming some vegetables as a side dish, with bread pudding and brandy sauce for afters. Mrs Weasley's kitchen was well accustomed to receiving magical directions, and Harry was soon caught up in the whirl of food preparation, almost a holiday compared to his school work. He didn't notice his new mother taking a picture of him at work.

The Weasley's that worked came home in dribs and drabs with Bill arriving first and Charlie last. The second eldest Weasley was apparently on a four-month rotation with his department, one that was offered to all of its field agents at one point or another. Everyone was home and inside by the time Percy arrived, something the third eldest son noticed. He didn't endear himself when he bumped into Mark and asked 'who are you?' in his most stuffy voice, and dinner looked to be a particularly tense affair when he spotted Harry in the kitchen and exclaimed,

"What is _he_ doing here?"

"_He_ is here to spend Christmas with his family, just like you, Percy," Arthur said a little tersely and Ron and Ginny went to help set the table while Mark retreated to Harry's side. Harry bent to whisper a reassurance in his ear. A wave of his wand had the vegetables in bowls and Mark carried them to the now set table while Harry and Ron carried a pan of lasagne each.

Everyone sat down, and began the business of passing plates and bowls and generally relaxed a bit as they talked about their day and what they'd been up to. Mark was persuaded to say a few words about the snow village, which wasn't quite complete though they'd finish it tomorrow. Ron assured Bill - who was lamenting that he had to go to work - that he'd set a few freezing charms to preserve the village and Molly suggested a tour of it by wand and candlelight tomorrow after supper.

"This is smashing!" Fred complimented Harry as he went for seconds of everything. George nodded vigorously, his mouth to full to speak, and even Mrs Weasley went back for another helping. Harry was glad that he'd made extras again, and put a bit more on Marks plate. Both pans were scraped out and Charlie was mopping his plate with a bit of bread and butter when Bill asked about desert.

"Have you no manners?" Molly scolded while Harry laughed and got up to carry empty serving dishes to the table while the twins collected plates and came back with desert bowls and spoons. A quick charm reheated the brandy sauce, which was a thick syrupy consistency, and Ginny took it to the table while Ron carried the jug of custard. So far Mrs Weasley hadn't had to get up once, something that she remarked on with pleasure. Harry put the pudding into a bowl and carried it back to the table.

Charlie offered to take Ginny in to Diagon Alley tomorrow for some shopping time, and Bill started a discussion with the twins about Puddlemere United and the Wimbourne Wasps, which were apparently looking for sponsors and a new pitch. Percy was talking to Mr Weasley about the Ministry, but it wasn't a light-hearted conversation by the look of it.

They retreated to the front room when dinner was over, and Ron and the twins cleaned up the kitchen this time, though Harry had done a lot of it as he went. He'd learned to clean as he went in the bus, due to the fact that the kitchen was so small and a lot of clutter made things difficult. Mark once more sought the comfort of Harry's lap, and Harry was all too glad to spend a little time concentrating solely on his charge, whispering questions to him and encouraging answers. He was aware that Percy was looking at him funny, but was too caught up in Marks needs to pay attention to the older man.

The twins brought in the usual mugs of hot chocolate and tea, and Ron followed with the biscuit tin. The quiet comfortable chatter continued and eventually Mark fell asleep in Harry's lap, curled comfortably in the shelter of his guardian's arms. It was fortunate that Percy's remark fell in the silence then, rather than when the boy had been awake.

"Isn't he rather taking advantage of you? Not only does he put the family in danger he brings other strays with him?"

"Harry is not a stray!" Arthur shot a sad look at Harry who smiled back. He was a stray, and they were very kind to put up with him and his problems.

"Father, you must acknowledge that he has brought more harm than good with him," Percy insisted, going a little red but obviously determined to have his say. Molly was staring at her carpet slippers, an unhappy look on her face, caught between defending her adopted son and welcoming her third eldest back to the family.

"Trouble!" Charlie hissed, "He fought a Basilisk for Ginny!"

"He gave us our starting money!" Fred added, sharing a glance with his twin.

"He acknowledged Ron as the most important person to him in the Tri Wizard Tournament!" Bill glanced at his youngest brother warmly, and Harry sensed that they might have a kindred spirit there.

"And last Christmas he defended this house and family from a Death Eater attack," Ginny added, her eyes flashing with temper.

"Not to mention he's a great cook," George defused the moment and Ron sniggered. Harry chuffed in amusement and nodded in acknowledgement to George's toast. It appeared that the Weasley men's weakness was their stomach, and Ron's vacuum cleaner tendencies took on a whole new light.

"Ginny would never have been anywhere near that Basilisk if Malfoy hadn't targeted her for defending Potter," Percy refuted, and Ginny bounced onto her knees. Most people tended to forget that Ginny had a temper of her own until they were on the wrong side of it. If she could face her peers after the events in the Chamber, then she could face down her own brother.

"Malfoy went after me because he wanted to stop Dads Muggle Protection Act. The fact that I knew Harry was just a bonus," she sent her father an apologetic glance and he held his arms out for a hug, which she granted immediately, nestling into his side. That action told Harry that Arthur and his daughter had worked hard together to overcome the effects of being possessed by Voldemort in her first year.

"And the money? You can't deny that you wanted the twins to finish their education, mother. Without Harry's money they would not have been able to leave the school," Percy appealed directly to his mother, who held up her hand to silence Fred and George.

"Harry offered that money to both the Diggory's and your father and I. We turned it down," she said firmly, "And it's true I wanted my boys to graduate fro m Hogwarts, but it's also true that they've been a great success so far, and they were never what you'd call enthusiastic scholars."

The twins beamed at her, finally hearing what she really thought of their business. Harry was also relieved, he'd thought she'd be cross that he'd given the twins a chance at their dream, which was so different from hers.

"Why didn't Harry offer the money to Ron, if Ron is so important to him?" Percy gazed at his youngest brother, and Harry tensed a little, worried that Ron was resentful, but had never said anything.

"Don't be a prat, Percy," Ron said lazily, his eyes locked on Harry's, "If I'd been given that money I'd have wasted it on something stupid. Besides, I don't need Harry to pay me to be his friend. That comes for free."

"You could have invested in your future!" Percy protested. Ron smiled slowly, and looked at his older brother pointedly.

"I have," he said simply, "Harry snubbed Malfoy for me the first time we met. We've been through a lot together since then, and he's never let me down. I can rely on Harry. What more do I need?"

"And when you want to marry and start a family? What will you do then?" Percy asked sharply. Obviously he hadn't been informed of Ron's letter to his parents, declaring that he and Harry was now a couple. Even Ginny knew and accepted them, something that made Harry hope that she found someone really special in life. Ginny was a gem and deserved only the best.

"I've already got a fine place to live, and someone special to live with," Ron shrugged, "But seeing as I'm not even out of school yet I think I'll hold off making any announcements to the public until we graduate."

Harry ducked his face into Marks hair, hiding his smile. That was a pretty strong declaration of love right there, though the actual words had never been expressed.

"And as to him bringing trouble to our door, it would have found its way all by itself. We're not about to sit around and let the Death Eaters have free reign, Percy," Arthur said quietly, still hugging Ginny, "We'd have opposed them no matter what. You'll just have to accept that Harry has a place in this family, just as you do."

"And the boy?" Percy gestured to Mark, "Is he to be your next project?"

"He's _my_ little brother," Harry said softly, "And he's having a rough time at the moment. Leave him alone."

He said goodnight quietly and got up, followed closely by Ron who opened the kitchen door for him and cast a warming spell over the three of them for the short walk to the bus.

0o0o0o0

Harry had offered to take Mark and himself back to Hogwarts, but Molly and Arthur pitched a fit and they stayed. Mark had slept through the whole confrontation and though he was worried by the slight tension in the house, the fact that the Weasley's continued to welcome his company and participation in their lives soon eased his fears. Ron and Ginny helped finish the building of the snow village, and the wand/candlelight tour was a big hit. Harry helped Ron put preservation charms on the village and on Christmas Eve they organised a treasure hunt through it, with the houses lit up from within by coloured balls of light, a spell that Ginny knew and taught to her older brother.

Christmas Day was one relaxed feast, with presents and warm laughter. Mark didn't have time to miss his parents, as he was rapidly involved in one game after another. Harry had finished his planning by then and played with abandon, happy to be responsibility free for now. Percy's presence was not allowed to cast a pall over anything; in fact the third eldest soon learned that no one in the family would put up with his stuffy behaviour for long. In a funny way, Percy was being forced to grow up, even though he'd already left home and held a full time job - something that most people would consider the actions of a grown up.

There was something new to do each day, and by the time they had to go back to school Harry was relieved that they'd managed to ease Mark through the worst of it. The young Slytherin hadn't had time to brood, though he sought the comfort of Harry's arms each night. Molly always got a very fond look in her eye when she saw Harry caring for his little brother.

Harry took Mark back with him a few days before classes were due to start, allowing the schools apprentice to get his classroom organised and to swap several of his dark plants around. Some were almost dormant during winter, which was the best time to allow inexperienced students to study them. Professor Flitwick sought him out to discuss several new charms that the Charms Master wanted Harry to work on with the younger students. The tiny professor said that the class had been having trouble putting the charm into the right context, and as it had defensive uses, Harry was justified covering it in his class as well.

The castle was soon bustling with returned students, and the second term of school saw a marked improvement in his second years. The first years were also working hard, and Professor McGonagall had once again informed him that he had passed his apprenticeship requirements to date.

It came as no surprise then that Voldemort chose this term to become particularly active. Once more he had recruited new followers on New Years Eve, though several families had fled, seeking shelter at the Ministry, the school or overseas, rather than take the Dark Mark. This time around Voldemort was having a harder time finding willing followers. Harry's dreams on New Years Eve had been unpleasant, though at the time he'd chalked it up to a combination of memories and concern for Mark.

Sleep became impossible. Nightmares so vivid they made him sick plagued him every time he closed his eyes. Harry took to using a glamour charm to conceal his red eyes, pale and sickly complexion and lank hair. He brewed a strong batch of Pepper Up Potion, which he carried in a flask wherever he went, rather like Mad Eye did. He'd researched the long-term effects of taking the potion, and was relieved that there were none, though the potion lost its effectiveness after a while.

Ron seemed to sense something was wrong, as Harry preferred to sleep alone now, rather that ruin his best friends rest as well as his own. Unable to explain that he was not only having bad dreams but had also started to wake up while puking in horror, Harry did his best to put aside some quiet time for the two of them once or twice a week, though they mainly just sat together in silence and played chess or worked on homework. Harry made sure that he touched Ron, to reassure his friend that it wasn't his empathy keeping them apart, and Ron seemed to develop a fascination with Harry's hair, carding his fingers through it when they were alone. It felt good to have the long slender fingers stroking him, and Harry leaned into the touch whenever it was offered.

The fact that Ron and Hermione were also swamped with homework, as the NEWT tests grew steadily closer helped Harry conceal his difficulties from them. They both thought that Harry was finding it hard to keep up his teaching and studying and were very kind about not demanding more time than he could give. Harry made a point of sitting with them to do his homework whenever possible, and left it at that.

Harry dutifully sent notes each day to Dumbledore regarding the contents of his visions, acting as a spy in Snape's place, though he wasn't sure how much stock Dumbledore put into his reports. Voldemort was pushing his Death Eaters to find 'the key'. Harry had a feeling that whatever it was, was associated with something incredibly powerful. Voldemort never named it, and punished his followers cruelly for every failure, real or imagined.

The Headmaster made it a point to meet with him once a week to discuss these visions, a meeting that always left Harry wanting to weep. His emotions were always close to the surface now, and it took a great deal of self control - something that Snape had accused him of lacking - to keep them under wraps. The meetings only served to consolidate his anxiety about facing the Dark Lord, especially as Dumbledore practically admitted that he was unsure what it was that Voldemort was seeking. He couldn't let the Headmaster see his anxiety, and as he was also trying to protect his friends from it as well, Harry was very isolated.

Quidditch was his only escape. Even exhaustion couldn't dull his enjoyment of the game and his broom performed flawlessly. It was his last season, and Harry didn't miss a match, maintaining his unbeaten record with a fierce sort of pride. Gryffindor would win the Cup this year; call it a present to his Head of House who always took such pride in placing it upon her mantelpiece.

It was a shock at the end of term for Harry to discover what it was about his hair that had Ron so fascinated. He rarely took the glamour charm down, not wanting to risk anyone spotting him with it off, but one evening he crept from a particularly bad nightmare to his office, seeking refuge in the once hated solitude. He took the glamour off as the effort of maintaining it was too much until he'd settled his stomach and his nerves, and when he passed the small mirror that was hung by his office door as he paced around the room he noticed something shimmering in his hair.

A closer look showed that what he thought was a reflection was actually a white strand, nestled amongst the black. It felt different to his fingers and combing his hands through his hair only brought more to the surface. He stared in shock, his mind whirling at the discovery.

He was just over seventeen and a half years old, and he was going grey.

0o0o0o0

The glamour charm stayed up. He didn't take it down for anything. He wasn't sure what Ron would do if he realised that the fascinating textures in Harry's hair were actually caused by premature aging, but the oddly coarse white hairs were not seeing the light of day if Harry had any say in it. He locked himself away for the entire Easter break, and let the castle reassure him that Mark was doing well, surrounded by friends and able to turn to Ron or Hermione if he needed to.

The final term for the seventh years was a nightmare of study and learning. Tempers became short, and more than once a student had to be led aside to a quiet room and given a calming draught. Third week into term the remains of a house elf was found strewn across the path that led to Hogsmede. No one was sure what had killed the elf so viciously, but all students were warned to keep a close watch on the younger ones when they went out. Loola told Harry that he was certain it wasn't one of Hogwarts elves, but Harry still had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

The weather began to fine up, pleasant sunshine taking over the usual spring storms. Seventh years were urged to study outside, and Madam Pomfrey was heard to mutter something about them being the most 'delicate bunch' they'd had for a while. A good dose of sunshine seemed to cure some of the more pasty faces that were wandering the halls.

The Daily Prophet was of course full of Death Eater activity and mournful predictions about the future. Fudge was issuing statements every day, each one a little more desperate than the last. Now that the bribes from the Death Eaters were common knowledge - and he wasn't the only official that had been caught - the Wizard on the street seemed to have lost faith in the Ministry. People were reacting a lot more violently to perceived threats to their loved ones and property, which at one point resulted in quite a few injuries as people over reacted to the simplest of things.

The first years didn't seem to understand why the senior students were acting so strangely, and a few of them were on the receiving ends of sharp reprimands from over stressed seventeen year olds. Harry knew that they'd have to learn the hard way not to bother the fifth and seventh years, but did his best to be sympathetic. Mark took a good look at what was happening at the school and started bringing Harry cups of tea at prep or to his office. Harry appreciated the gesture and drank them good naturedly, even if they were too sweet for his taste.

He continued to brew and drink the Pepper Up Potions, though they were slowly losing their impact. His sleep pattern continued to be a torture course of nightmares and visions, and he continued to meet with Dumbledore to discuss what he saw each week. The castle continued to give him shortcuts and warnings, and Harry became used to the feeling of being watched when he was alone. He spoke to the castle sometimes, and had the feeling that it spoke back.

The week of exams arrived all too soon, and Harry was as panicked as the rest of the seventh years, faced with the end of school before he was even ready for it. He and Ron sat up with Hermione until all hours, revising hard and quizzing each other on the work they'd covered, much as they had for the OWL tests. Harry had the added stress of still being required to teach his two classes and take prep for them, though Professor McGonagall had strongly suggested that this year he ask them to sit and do some revision of their own. He'd taken her advice, giving them each a practical lesson where they paired up and went over the spells they were to have mastered this year and making the rest of the lessons study periods for them. If they chose to study something other than Defence Against the Dark Arts then he ignored it, using the time to clear his desk of marking assignments and squeeze in some revision of his own. Their exams allowed him to revise Arithmancy, and he went straight from second year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs to that exam, his head spinning as he tried to remember all he needed to. His hands had been shaking so badly he'd needed to concentrate in order to write legibly.

The Friday that exams ended saw Harry reeling with fatigue, and he fainted as he exited the practical exam for Transfiguration - the last exam on their schedule. He was only out for a few minutes, but when he woke he was too exhausted to open his eyes. There were voices all around him, nervous and hushed, arguing about something, and Harry forced himself to listen carefully.

"…There must be something!" that sounded like Professor McGonagall. He had a vague notion that he'd fallen near her, which must have given her quite a shock.

"If you'd give me some space, Minerva, I might be able to figure it out!" that was definitely Madam Pomfrey, sounding exasperated as only she could, "There seems to be something draining his magic, a low constant strain."

"Well can't you stop it Poppy?" his mentor sounded frustrated and there was a tsking noise followed by a very strong spell that took him by surprise and took the glamour with it. He groaned in despair as the two women exclaimed in shock.

"Look at him!" the Head of Gryffindor choked, "Oh Poppy, he's going _grey!_ How could I miss it?"

"Pepper Up Potion," Snape's crisp voice intruded, "I've just found his store. It appears he's been brewing it in his office, for the past two terms if the levels in the containers of potions ingredients are anything to judge by."

"Dear me," the matron sighed, "That complicates things. If he's so far behind in his work that he feel the need to take a potion…"

Harry grunted indignantly and felt someone pat his hand. He wasn't far behind in his work at all! In fact he'd bet that none of them were as up to date as he! He'd marked all his students exams, and had the holiday homework all set and ready to go! He'd even finished his prep for next week - all he had to do was teach the lessons and mark the final homework assignments - which the students hadn't even had yet!

"I believe there is another explanation," the Headmasters voice intruded, and Harry wondered who was running the school if the Head, Deputy Head and Head of Slytherin were all in here with him. Madam Pomfrey made one of her wordless interrogative noises.

"Harry has been suffering from nightly visions from Voldemort," Dumbledore ratted him out to the school matron shamelessly, no doubt on the receiving end of one of her nastier glares, "He assured me that he was coping with them, and to my shame I did not pry far enough. The Head House Elf has just been to see me, and his report is most worrisome. It appears our apprentice only sleeps an hour each night at the most, and has several nasty side effects from the visions he did not see fit to share with me."

"Such as?" Madam Pomfrey asked her cool fingers fastened around Harry's wrist. Harry wanted to tell the Headmaster to be quiet, but wasn't able to do much more than lie there and breathe at the moment.

"He becomes physically ill. Sometimes violently so."

"That explains the weight loss," Pomfrey muttered as McGonagall's hand petted Harry's head gently. Harry decided this was all too embarrassing and went back to sleep. At least he wouldn't have to listen to them any more.

0o0o0o0

The sound of his father's invisibility cloak sliding off Ron's hair woke him. The cloak always made a static noise when it clung to hair, and although he knew Hermione loved him too, she wouldn't steal his cloak and sneak down to the hospital wing. He felt a lot better, though he was still tired. In fact he thought he might even try opening his eyes in a moment.

"Look at you," Ron's voice sounded so sad. Harry knew what his friend meant. Between the premature aging and the weight loss he was pretty ugly. He wouldn't be surprised if Ron ran the other way now. He didn't love the lanky teen for his looks, not that Ron was ugly, quite the opposite, but he wasn't sure if Ron's love for him was based on personality and friendship, as Harry's was.

"So tired, so pale," Ron continued, his hand once more carding through Harry's hair, "Never again Harry. School will finish in five days time and then I'm taking you away for a nice long rest. And when you're all better we're going to talk about why you should have told me you were in trouble."

"Ron," Harry sighed and prised his eyes open. Ron's eyes widened and he leaned down to kiss Harry's cheek, resting his forehead against the other teens and swirling his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Hello lover," Ron whispered, "Just rest. Everything is under control. Professor Dumbledore is taking your classes, Mark is all packed and ready to come home with Ginny, and Mum is fitting the bus out for us. You'll sleep, I'll drive and when we find the right spot we'll stop and live there for a while, until you're all better."

"Sorry," Harry felt it was important that Ron understood that, and from the way the redheads fingers tightened in his hair for a moment he knew his friend understood. He was sorry for lying, for not telling Ron what was going on.

"I understand," Ron kissed his nose, "You didn't want to disturb me or some such rubbish. I'll tell you a secret, Harry. When I sleep alone, I have nightmares too."

"Brains," Harry realised and Ron nodded. There were very faint scars on his hands and arms from the brains that had attacked him in their fifth year rescue mission. The school matron had commented that thoughts could leave deep scars.

"They left behind a few nasty thoughts," Ron confirmed, "But Harry, they also left behind some nice ones. One even left behind a few suggestions for what I could do with you once we… you know. Nice thoughts, love thoughts. When you're better we'll try it, hmm?"

"Love you," Harry sighed and Ron kissed him softly, "Grey…"

"Not completely, more like a bit of silver. Sexy, no matter what," Ron corrected him, "Unless you're covered in dung or something. That might not be sexy."

Harry managed a small giggle and Ron's hand went back into action. Harry moaned in pleasure and let the action send him back to sleep, the warmth that was Ron soothing him better than Dreamless Sleep potion ever could.

The next time he woke, afternoon sunlight was filling the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was tucking him in, and he blinked up at her with a lazy smile.

"Ah, you're awake," she smiled back, though he had no doubt he'd be in for a huge lecture once she was sure he'd stay awake for it, "Mr Weasley said you woke up on Sunday morning. What the boy thought he was doing sneaking around after midnight is anyone's guess. Are you hungry?"

"A little," Harry nodded, and she waved her wand. The pillows behind him multiplied until he was sitting up. His head spun briefly for a moment, and she rubbed his shoulder sympathetically before remembering she was supposed to be angry with him and pulling away.

"I'm not surprised, it's Wednesday after lunch," the matron eyed him sternly, "I'll get you something to eat."

'Something to eat' turned out to be poached eggs on toast. Harry inhaled them ravenously, and managed second helpings as well. This earned him a moments respite from the glare and permission to sit up for a moment longer. This was a good thing because Professor McGonagall arrived with Mark in tow, who promptly threw himself at Harry, clambering onto the bed and hugging him breathless. Harry smiled at his worried Professor and wrapped his arms around his 'little brother', holding Mark close and letting the fatigue he'd been fighting send him back to sleep.

0o0o0o0

Harry was having a very nice dream. He was in the dorm with the other boys, sitting on his bed and watching them get ready. It was just after dinner, and they were changing into clean school robes, and polishing their shoes - which proved it was a special occasion because that was something Seamus never did. Neville was combing his hair extra carefully and Ron was knotting and reknotting his tie.

"I wish Harry was here," Dean said, looking over at his friend, "Then he'd be able to do that for you and we wouldn't have to strangle you with it."

"Very funny," Ron said morosely as the others laughed. He left the tie alone though and went to sit on his bed. Harry snickered to himself - Ron hated doing up ties and Harry usually took over after his friends third attempt, unable to bear watching any longer. Seamus put his shoes on and went to wash his hands, and hopefully his face, which had polish on it from where he'd rubbed his nose. The rest of the boys stood up and looked at each other, then around the dorm.

"Rampage tonight, after the leaving party," Ron offered the suggestion, which was taken up with enthusiasm. A rampage was a combination of midnight feast, prank war and games tournament. Hermione had unknowingly named it when she complained about the noise, which sounded like 'a rampaging horde'. Harry - who had realised this was not a dream but more of a vision extended to him by the school itself - hoped the castle would show him the rampage as well. They were always great fun, though he'd sprained a wrist once in a particularly vicious pillow fight.

The girls were waiting in the common room, their hair dressed nicely, and in silence the seventh years walked down to the front foyer, gathering with the other seventh years. They would all be going to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmede after this, without teacher supervision for the traditional leaving party, which could be anything from a quiet round of drinks to a boisterous bout of hilarity. Professor McGonagall was waiting in the foyer with them, her eyes shining, and she directed them to get into alphabetical order once everyone had arrived. When the doors to the Great Hall opened the sounds of their parents talking quietly filled the foyer, and they followed McGonagall in, just like they had seven years ago to be sorted.

Harry went to sit with the Weasley's and Grangers at the Gryffindor table, not that they knew he was there. Mr and Mrs Weasley were both bursting with pride, and Mr and Mrs Granger were looking around avidly, impressed at the trappings that their daughter now considered to be every day. Hermione had told Ron and Harry that her parents had both been fascinated by the magic she was allowed to perform over summer, and that she couldn't wait until she was graduated and could show them everything.

Dumbledore stood and made a short speech, touching on some of the things that had happened while they were at Hogwarts. Prizes were given by Sprout and Flitwick, with Neville winning one in Herbology to his parents and grandmother's delight, and Hermione winning one for her overall scholastic achievement. This usually went to a Ravenclaw, something that was explained in a hurried whisper to the Grangers by Arthur Weasley so they would understand the murmurs and applause better.

Snape began calling the roll for the last time, his splendid House robes rustling as he performed this task. McGonagall handed the scrolls to Dumbledore, who shook the students hand and handed it over. Harry wondered if his name would be called - after all he was graduating tonight, but his body was still asleep in the hospital wing. His curiosity was answered when Snape drawled his name in a very deliberate manner and McGonagall shot her colleague a covert glare. Before she or the Headmaster could say anything Hedwig swooped into the hall, to the laughter of Ron and Hermione.

The Headmaster held his arm out with aplomb, and McGonagall tied his scroll to Hedwigs leg. They both petted the owl for a second and then she took off, no doubt heading for Harry's bed. The Weasley's clapped, as did the Grangers. Harry laughed at the scowl on Snape's face, and that disturbed his concentration enough to lose his connection with his surroundings and head back into sleep.

0o0o0o0


	12. Harry's Soul 5

0o0o0o0

Harry's Soul - 5

Harry was having a horrible dream. The Great Hall had slipped away from him with laughter, and though this dream had also started with laughter, it was rapidly turning into a nightmare. Hermione and Lavender had been in some sort of crazy drinking game - Harry's normally studious friend had really cut loose at the pub and was sculling butter beer with reckless abandon. Ron and Terry Boot had also been playing a drinking game of some sort, but with something a bit stronger than the butter beer they usually ordered.

There had been a lot of friendly noise and movement until the back wall of the pub blew in. People screamed and went for their wands, or screamed and ran away, depending on whom they were and how much they'd had to drink. Ron had gone for his wand, but had been hit by two stunning spells at the same time. Grey robed Death Eaters had stormed the pub, grabbed Harry's beloved and activated a port key that whisked them away.

Harry fought to wake. He was vaguely aware of his body, distant and heavy in the hospital wing, lying safe but useless. He knew it was moving and making noise, because Madam Pomfrey was bent over him, trying to calm him down and wake him up. He saw the Matron point her wand at him and a moment later something sharp and cold crawled all over his skin, bringing his body that much closer to his mind.

"Ron," his mouth slurred without permission, and he struggled harder. Unfortunately, whatever it was Pomfrey had used to try and wake him also woke his connection to Voldemort. He saw his friend being dragged forward to the Dark Lord, Theodore Nott on one side and Bellatrix Lestrange on the other. He saw the horror on Ron's face when a masked Lucius Malfoy pulled a knife and started drawing the knife over vulnerable flesh while the Dark Lord looked on, amused at the tableau before him. He couldn't hear Ron's screams but he could see him pleading with his captors at each cut, squirming and fighting to get away while Voldemort's Death Eaters looked on.

Harry screamed too when they cut off the first finger, and there was a sharp shock that had him sitting up in bed, clutching Madam Pomfrey by the shoulders and shaking her hard. Ron was bleeding so badly, and his struggles were rapidly becoming weaker as the blood loss took its toll.

"They're killing him!" Harry howled, "RON!"

"Harry please!" Pomfrey shouted, shaking him back, "It's a dream!"

"Poppy! Hogsmede has been attacked! What on earth?" McGonagall burst into the hospital wing, and skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight before her. Her words broke the tableau, and killed any hope Harry had that the school matron was right. He struggled not to vomit as a second and then third finger was hacked off the beautiful hand, and threw himself out of the bed, changing the pyjamas he wore into Wizard robes, his watch hanging from the chain that Ginny had given him for Christmas. His wand was snatched up from the bedside table and Harry popped out of the wing to the edge of the clearing he could see with such chilling clarity.

"No, no please, no, no more, no."

Ron's broken whimpers tore at Harry's heart, and he reached out his senses to the forest that surrounded them. Voldemort hadn't noticed his arrival, and Harry had instinctively arrived just outside the wards the Dark Lord had set in place. These wards shimmered with a strange power, and Harry reached out his senses to test them.

They were in the heart of the Forbidden Forrest, and the wards were anchored into the very plants that surrounded them, and had been in place for quite some time. Harry could feel their anger and pain, and he reached out to them just the same way he would reach out to the castle, answering their call for help. The spell was draining them in order to survive, and Harry picked at the knot that held it in place carefully, releasing it with a quiet burst of power even as Malfoy severed Ron's last finger to a scream of pure anguish.

"No!" the cry was torn from Harry without conscious volition, and Voldemort swung around with a cackle of glee.

"So Potter!" he began, but Harry was already charging forward, intent only on getting to Ron. Spells from nearby Death Eaters exploded around him, or bounced off the shield he'd erected. Seeing that Harry wasn't going to be stopped, Voldemort shrieked a single command; one that Malfoy was quick to carry out. The knife drew across Ron's throat swiftly, and he gargled in horror as his life's blood spilled onto the carpet of ivy and leaves. He was dead before he hit the ground, and Harry's anguished scream scared roosting birds into flight for a five-mile radius.

Harry swung to face Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's look of amusement and triumph was replaced with one of fear. He went for his wand and shouted a spell that Harry countered without thinking, and once more their wands were joined by a golden beam of light. The Death Eaters shouts of dismay sounded oddly distant as Harry unleashed fully the power of his grieving heart. In an attempt to weaken his foe, Voldemort had unwittingly given him the final goad that would allow Harry to master all the powers he possessed.

He intended to kill this time, to wipe the foul thing from the face of the earth when something distracted him. It was just for a moment, and such a small thing that none of those watching even realised it had happened. The watch that Mark had given him for Christmas chimed once. Harry's eyes widened and then narrowed once more, the reminder of his much loved little brother bringing to mind another memory, this one of a sad little boy in his classroom, trying so hard to master a spell he normally wouldn't learn until his next year.

__

"In every living thing there is a code that tells it what to be. It tells it to be human or a tree or a beetle. It tells us what colour we are, the shape of our ears, the height we'll grow to, if we're fat or thin, even if we use our left or right hands to hold a wand… you're telling the code to change..."

The wands hummed and vibrated and Harry took a deep breath, unleashing his powers and sending them through the air, through the ground and through the very plants themselves, reaching out to touch the code that told the being in front of him to be Tom Riddle.

The Dark Rites that Tom had undergone had to have been truly agonising, though that was nothing compared to the agony Harry's soul felt now. Harry saw at once that the thing in front of him was more dead than alive, its magic the only thing that stopped the death of the body it currently inhabited. Harry could clearly see the spells that Riddle had used desperately to keep his magic anchored to his body, and it was a moment's work to snap those bonds, not with the care Harry would have used with his other Important People, but with the cruel callousness of one recently made a widower.

Voldemort saw too late what Harry was doing, and the Death Eaters were too cowardly to interfere. The other mans shriek of pain fell on deaf ears as Harry reached deep into his enemies life code and listened to the living song of the nocturnal forest. His assistance to the trapped plants was repaid in full as they agreed to take over the guardianship of the one called Tom Riddle, and Harry let his grief surge out of him one last time.

The plants around them seemed to surge up, and wrap around the man before him as light poured from Harry into the spell he was casting. Voldemort twisted and turned, his wand absorbed into the plant mass as Harry's spell took hold. The light turned from white to gold and blotted everything out for a moment. When he could see again, Harry stood in front of a gnarled and twisted tree, its branches flung up to the night sky as if in supplication, a heavy mantle of ivy and Devils Snare wrapped around its trunk. Death Eaters disapparated left right and centre in panic, but Harry didn't care. A final brush of magic ensured that this tree would never be transfigured into anything else, the remnants of the Dark Rites used to secure it in its final form.

A feather floated down from the sky to land on Harry's shoulder and he picked it up curiously. It was red with golden flecks, and he could hear the song of a Phoenix as he held it. The plants had rejected Voldemort's wand core. Harry stuck the feather inside his robes with his wand and turned to the blood soaked heap of cloth on the ground.

With a soft sob, he brushed Ron's hair out of his eyes one last time and then picked the broken body up, returning to Hogwarts and an empty future.

0o0o0o0

His appearance in the hospital wing brought screams of horror. Hermione's voice rose above the others, and Harry turned from placing his burden on an empty bed, reaching out hands that were stained with Ron's blood.

"I wasn't fast enough," he begged for her understanding, "Malfoy killed him before I could stop it."

Tears ran down his face as the events of the night caught up with his already exhausted body. Madam Pomfrey muttered a spell, her voice dazed, and the blood disappeared, leaving Harry windswept and pale. He sobbed and Hermione threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly. Hermione turned her head on his shoulder to look down at their friend and screamed, jolting back from Harry in shock, her hand over her mouth as she pointed with the other.

Harry turned to stare at the body on the bed, and for a long moment he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Then his heart caught up with his head and he shouted in jubilation. He'd seen this change before, in fact he'd watched his best friend turn from Crabbe back to himself, fascinated by the way the bones seemed to melt and shift, taking the muscles with them. Red hair, soaked with blood became blonde and lanky limbs shortened into the compact muscles of Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy killed his own son," the inane words fell from his lips as he stared at the mangled body of his former year mate, "Draco took the Polyjuice potion!"

Hermione started to cry again, this time with relief, but Harry couldn't summon the energy for another reaction. He felt bruised and vulnerable, and something in the hospital wing was whining at an annoyingly loud pitch. The floor seemed to have been tilted too, and Harry wondered how Madam Pomfrey managed to stand at that angle.

"Where's Ron?" Harry looked around, bewildered, "Hermione, where is he?"

He tried to stretch out his magic, seeking the beloved magical signature of his friend, but found to his dismay that his own magic was badly depleted. The effort turned his already white face an ugly grey colour and he staggered on the spot, overwhelmed. The Headmasters arms closed around him and Harry was swept up and onto a bed.

"We'll find him, dear boy," was the last thing he heard as the whine reached an unbearable pitch and darkness rolled over him in a blessedly silent wave. He fought it stubbornly for a while, before giving in and just floating along. He was tired, and as much as he needed to find Ron, some small part of him knew that if he tried with his magic depleted and his body aching with exhaustion he'd probably get them both killed. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he had to trust the others to find Ron for him. He had to trust Ron to come back to him safe and sound.

He floated along in the blackness for a while, buffeted by soft voices and touches. At one point he was sure he heard Sirius laugh, that peculiar bark so like Padfoot that Harry wondered for a moment if his godfather was nearby. Something was tugging at him though, tenderly but urgently, and Harry followed it through the darkness willingly, knowing that whatever it was, it meant him no harm.

He came to himself in a bed in the hospital wing, curled on his side. There was a very familiar and much loved scent engulfing him, and Harry breathed it gratefully. He'd know the smell of his love anywhere, and after a moment a very nice kiss was planted on his lips, warm skin brushing and massaging his. It was reminiscent of another waking, in a happier time, and Harry moved his lips a little in a small smile.

"Good morning, lover," Ron's voice sounded softly in his eager ears as the lips left his and Harry wanted to protest, wanting more kisses. Ron's fingers wound into his hair, and Ron's forehead rested on his, so Harry decided not to fret too much over it. This was almost just as good.

"Its early morning again, and time for our little ritual."

They had a ritual? When had that been established, and what else had Harry missed? Since this alleged ritual involved a scalp massage and tender kisses dropped on his face he didn't protest too hard.

"Now then," Ron breathed into his ear, and action that made Harry hum in contentment. It was a known weakness that his beloved friend exploited at the slightest excuse, "I have a feeling, Harry that you either had an out-of-body experience for our graduation night and the party, of which Trelawney would be so proud or - as Dumbledore seems to think more likely - you used a sort of Dwarves magic to speak to your surroundings. Apparently Dwarf miners talk to the earth, the air and the plants to find the best veins of the minerals they mine. Did you know that? Well, you do now. As I was saying you came with us to the graduation, and the party after I'd bet, and saw the Death Eaters grab me at the pub."

Harry could remember that with cold clarity, and shifted closer to Ron, and action that seemed to delight the redhead. He was rewarded with another very nice kiss and a nibble to his ear lobe.

"You're very with it today," Ron mused, "Thinking of joining us?"

When he got no response from the man he was cuddling, Ron shrugged - Harry could feel it - and settled in to tell the rest of his story, Harry hanging from his every word.

"When I came round, the two of them had me tied to a tree in the forest. They'd wrapped ropes around me and the trunk that covered me from shoulders to ankles. They hadn't noticed me open my eyes and I decided to play possum for a while and see what they could tell me. They were chatting away quite happily, and I figured out what Voldemort was doing. He was relying on you to be so upset that he could exploit your connection and send you the visions of what he was doing to me. Because he guessed that you would know the difference between a real and a fake vision, he had Draco take some Polyjuice Potion with my hair in it. If I was out of it, but there was someone who looked and sounded just like me right in front of him, Voldemort figured that you wouldn't notice any small differences."

"Hair?" Harry wondered, not realising he was doing it aloud. Ron's tale was drawing him to the surface, allowing light to overcome the woolly darkness that had cocooned him for what seemed like years. Ron pressed another very nice kiss to Harry's lips and Harry responded happily, enjoying the attention.

"Do you remember the remains of that poor house elf that was found outside the school? It was Kreacher, and he was obeying the demands of Bellatrix Lestrange, who managed to break out of prison. We've been able to piece together that Lestrange demanded that Kreacher serve her, and then killed him once he'd completed her mission to ensure he couldn't betray them. Fudge has been covering up the escapes from Azkaban for _months_ and mum nearly went to Azkaban for hexing him with haemorrhoids."

Harry gasped and Ron's arms tightened, kisses raining down on his face once more. Harry managed to twine his fingers tightly in Ron's sleeve, the gesture pleading for reassurance, which he got in spades.

"Dumbledore got her off, its ok," he was reassured, "Don't fret, mate."

Harry didn't loosen his grip though, determined to wake up properly and check on Molly Weasley for himself. Ron's voice was helping him do that, and the red head seemed to understand this, because he kept talking.

"So there I am, tied to a tree, with two Death Eaters pacing around," he continued, "And suddenly they both grab their left forearm and start howling in pain and rolling about. I guessed that you were doing something to Voldemort to cause this and started struggling to get away. I can't though, and when they stop howling they both disapparate without even looking back. I keep trying to work on the ropes, and just as the sun comes up Pettigrew arrives. He slices the ropes, and disapparates of before I can gain my balance. My wand was on the ground, so I grabbed it and apparated back to Hogsmede before heading for the school."

Harry sighed in relief and opened his eyes in time for another very nice kiss and some soothing massage. Ron's brown eyes lit up when he saw Harry was awake, and a charmingly shy smile lit his face. Harry drank in the sight of the healthy colour in his friends face and the feeling of all eight fingers and both thumbs touching Harry.

"There you are," Ron tousled his hair affectionately, "You've been asleep for three whole weeks. Hungry?"

Harry nodded and let his friend help him sit up. He insisted that Ron climb into the bed with him and cuddled up, still a little dazed, but reassured that his Wheezy was alive and well.

0o0o0o0

Madam Pomfrey fed him and let him out, reassuring Harry that the fatigue he was feeling after three weeks of sleep was normal. She advised him to take a 'good long holiday and come back to school refreshed'. Harry liked the sound of that, and followed Ron to the Headmasters office, their next official port of call. Professor McGonagall was there, apparently sharing a cup of breakfast tea with Dumbledore as they reviewed the last of school business before closing the school for the holidays. Mark had gone to Cornwall with Professor Flitwick for the summer, something that Ron had explained in soft tones over breakfast.

Professor McGonagall kissed his cheek, making Ron laugh at his blushes, and poured a cup of tea for them both. Harry sipped it once, and then put it aside, launching straight into a recount of his final battle with Voldemort. If he'd learned anything over his time at Hogwarts it was that delaying something unpleasant never helped. Dumbledore liked his reports on the spot, or as soon as possible after the fact, and Harry didn't feel up to idle chatter at the moment. Ron listened as avidly as the teachers, and when it was all over the red head sighed and leaned back.

"That is… incredible," Dumbledore murmured, breaking a long silence. Harry shrugged, looking at the carpet. It had to be done, and at least this way he knew that Voldemort would not come back. He wasn't a murderer either, which he was very relieved about.

"A tree, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked gently, and he nodded. She smiled and patted his hand, urging him to finish his tea once more.

"Sir," Harry sipped his tea, "Did you ever figure out what it was that Voldemort was looking for? If his Death Eaters decide to go after it still to try and restore him…"

Dumbledore held up a very arresting hand, and Harry trailed off, looking at his mentor questioningly. She beamed at him fondly, and he looked back to the Headmaster, who was twinkling at Ron. He noticed the understanding dawn on Harry's face and nodded confirmation.

"That's right, Harry," the old man smiled.

"What's right?" Ron asked curiously. Harry felt a mixture of elation and terror. What he was about to reveal to Ron could change their future forever. If Ron understood the depth of Harry's feelings for him he might draw back. As far as Harry knew it was all a bit of fun for the redhead.

"Ron, you're the key that Voldemort was looking for. He was searching for something powerful, something that would compel me to face him once and for all. He must have known that you were the person I'd miss the most in the Triwizard Tournament, and I guess that someone - possibly Draco - told him that we were together. He knew that if he had you, I'd follow as certain as night follows day. You're too important for me to risk losing. In the end, I only defeated him because I lost control of my grief. I thought you were dead," the words were like ashes in his mouth, and Ron's hands closed over his, the redhead pulling him into a tender hug that felt so good. The office was silent for a long moment as Harry got himself under control again, his lashes a little wet, but his face dry of tears.

"Well," Dumbledore stirred in his chair, "You'd best be off to the Burrow, boys. Harry, after all that has happened with the Ministry I took the liberty of sending your effects to Molly's care. Should you decide to travel, do let me know. I'll expect to see you back here a week before classes start."

"The Ministry?" Harry shot a look at Ron, who hadn't mentioned the Ministry to Harry at all, and seemed to think it was his turn to blush, "What about the Ministry?"

"Ah," Dumbledore leaned back and gave Ron a very strange look. Ron blushed even redder, and Harry wondered what his friend had done. From the colour and intensity of the blush this was sure to be worse than outing them to his parents and not telling Harry that he'd done it.

"They wanted to take you away," McGonagall spoke up when Rod didn't, "To a secure house with a Healer of the Ministers own choosing. He argued that despite your apprenticeship to the school, the Headmaster and myself had no legal say in your…how did he put it?"

"Final disposition," Dumbledore enunciated the words clearly, with just a hint of anger. Harry frowned. He was not an object to be disposed of.

"Yes," McGonagall looked like she'd had dragon dung dropped in her lap, "He declared that you were a national treasure, and as such your care and well being should be referred to his office exclusively."

"But he obviously didn't get his way, because I woke up here," he gestured at the office, and the paintings on the walls that were - for once - not pretending to be asleep. Ron coughed awkwardly and took a deep breath, turning in his chair to face Harry. Harry reached out a hand to his friend, who took it and held it tightly between both of his. Harry had meant for the gesture to reassure Ron, but it looked like Ron thought it was the other way around. His blush was subsiding, so Harry didn't argue the point.

"Harry, the only way to over ride the Minister and keep you with us was for me to…" Ron trailed off and took a shaky breath. Harry squeezed the hand in his and waited patiently.

"There is a spell called Annum Fidelious. It's used in Wizard law when two people of the same gender want to publicly join their lives together," Ron's eyes seemed to be pleading with him to understand, though he didn't give Harry a chance to speak, "It has to be performed by someone not related to the couple, and once it's performed it's as binding as a marriage ceremony. The participants have to have been in a faithful intimate relationship for a year, and have the desire to be joined together for the rest of their life. I challenged Fudge to perform the spell, and he agreed because he assumed that you were straight. The spell worked perfectly, and that made me the person who was to decide if you were to remain here, or not."

"Wait a minute. I slept through our marriage?" Harry spluttered, "Ron, I'm so sorry!"

"You're not mad?" Ron asked incredulously, "I didn't ask you first, and when Fudge realised what he'd done he told me that when you woke you'd be furious."

"And since when has Fudge ever been right about anything, including me?" Harry grinned; gripping the other mans hand so tightly their flesh was turning white with the pressure, "Ron, the spell worked! That means that as far as I was concerned we were as good as married, and even though I wasn't awake I assume the spell wouldn't have worked if I hadn't already wanted you for the rest of my life. The only reason I didn't bring it up before all this was because I didn't think it was something that Wizards could do."

Ron sagged in relief and Harry got up, pulling the red head into his arms and hugging the living daylights out of him. Ron was strong and vital in his arms, smelling of life and warmth. While Harry would have preferred to have gotten married while he was awake and not as a part of a power game played by a twisted politician, now that the ceremony had been performed, there was nothing he would do to change that. There was a small piece of tension in Ron's arms that Harry wanted gone, and like any other typical bloke he had just the perfect comment for the occasion.

"I can't wait for the honeymoon," he whispered and Ron spluttered and blushed into his collar.

0o0o0o0


	13. Harry's Future

0o0o0o0

Harry's Future

"Your last staff meeting, Potter," Snape drawled from his chair, the hated cane banished to lean on the coffee table. The irascible spy had never recovered fully from the attack that had exposed his activities, though Harry knew he had tried several different Healers in an attempt to heal the lingering damage to his legs. Magic could only do so much to heal a person.

"You're on the ball as always, Severus," Harry nodded agreeably, and took his seat. He had been instructed to use the staff's first names this year, and nothing annoyed Snape more than to have Harry use his first name. Their relationship had changed somewhat over the year, though not necessarily for the better. Their arguments were legendary, and Harry had proven himself to have quite the sharp wit when it came to verbal battle, a skill that he had honed on Snape.

The meeting convened, and Harry sat and listened carefully to the adults that had done so much to shape his life. They argued over the usual schedules and number of visits to Hogsmede, as they did with every meeting. They reminded Harry of Ron and Hermione, who still bickered comfortably with each other, and probably would until they died.

"Lastly, there will be a new staff member joining us," Dumbledore stroked his beard as they all recovered from the vicious round of comments directed from Snape to Professor Binns, "She will take Harry's place in teaching the first and second years Defence Against the Dark Arts, now that Harry has received his credentials."

"And what will you be doing, dear?" Poppy asked comfortably, smiling at him. She'd nagged him quite a bit this year over his eating and sleeping habits. They'd come to a truce in the end, and Harry now slept for a minimum of four hours a night, and took seconds at dinner. The visions were gone and the nightmares were getting better, but Harry had trained his body to manage with only a little sleep, a habit that was hard to give up.

"I've been offered a double apprenticeship with Gringotts and St Mungo's," Harry smiled at her, "The Healers want me to try and master my empathic talents a little more, and the Goblins want to ensure I'm not going to disgrace them in any curse breaking I might do."

He'd been surprised at the offer, which had come from representatives of both institutions at a meeting only a few weeks ago. Ron had been all for it, as it meant that Harry would be able to move in properly with him, sharing the flat that he and Hermione had rented in London. Harry had to admit that he was looking forward to living with Ron full time. Harry had taken to popping from the castle to Ron's side and back again as the action didn't take much effort on his behalf and it wasn't like he'd get caught in commuter traffic on the way to work.

"Ever the student, Potter," Snape sneered, "I guess the old saying is true - those who can't do, those who can, teach."

"You know best, Severus," Harry smiled sweetly, his voice as meek as he could make it. Snape glared at him and for a moment Harry thought the man would hex him right there in the staff meeting. McGonagall was snickering into her sleeve, and so were Poppy and Pomona. Filius wasn't so restrained, laughing outright with Hagrid, who tipped Harry a friendly wink.

"And on that note," the Headmaster twinkled at them all and got up, ending Harry's last staff meeting as the schools apprentice.

0o0o0o0

"Are you sure you want to try this, Harry?" Head Healer Holmes asked as they walked down the hall, "This particular patient has been here many times and tried many different treatments. He refuses to accept our diagnosis."

"I'm sure," Harry nodded. He spotted Poppy pacing outside the private room and smiled at her, accepting her hug enthusiastically and squeezing her in a friendly manner. She'd patched him up too many times as a student to be standoffish, and as an adult she'd tutored him a little for the Healers badge that he now wore on his robes. He had another six months with the Goblins, and then he'd be looking for a full time job that would let him use the skills he'd learnt. Ron was being secretive about that particular issue, and Harry was content to wait patiently for what ever Ron was planning to unfold. He'd learnt to trust Ron implicitly, a trust that rewarded with some very pleasurable surprises.

To the surprise of those that didn't know him well, Ron had graduated from Auror training at the top of his class, beating out even Hermione. Harry had never doubted that Ron would do well, the redheads drive to succeed was greater than a lot of people realised. Two years from graduation, Ron was one of the top field operatives, and there were rumours that he'd be asked to fill the top slot in the international Auror department when the current incumbent retired in two months.

"Oh Harry, you're our last hope," Poppy held his hands anxiously, "He refuses to give in and accept the inevitable. I should have insisted he go to St Mungo's the moment you rescued him."

"The stubborn bugger wouldn't have gone, Poppy," Harry had heard this before, and nothing he or anyone else could say seemed to assuage her guilt, "I'll do my best for you."

She kissed his cheek and stood aside as a nurse and an orderly filed into the room, followed by Harry and Holmes. Severus Snape lay on the single bed inside, already in the thin robe that the hospital provided, and glaring at everyone. He co-operated reluctantly with their examination, hissing in pain when they tested the range of movement of both legs, which had steadily deteriorated over the last five years. He now needed the support of two canes to walk and found staying on his feet unassisted to brew a potion very difficult. Harry stood back at the end of the examination and nodded to Holmes, certain he could alleviate some of this damage, if not all. What Holmes had never really understood was that healing to Harry was about people, not illness, injuries, spells and potions. Harry made a personal connection with every patient he saw, no matter what their illness was, or how long he spent with them.

Snape was a special case, his impact on Harry's childhood had been enormous and had even helped shape Harry into who he was today. That would only assist Harry in his efforts now. He nodded to the nurse, who poured a measure of potion into a glass and handed it to her glaring patient.

"What's this?" Snape eyed it distrustfully and Harry rolled his eyes.

"A potion. Drink it," he snapped back, knowing that any sign of gentleness or compassion would be viewed with extreme suspicion, if not outright hostility. Snape's glare didn't diminish, but the man drank what he was given, shuddering at the taste and handing the glass back before reclining on his pillows. After a moment his eyes drooped a little and he fixed Harry with an indignant stare.

"Poppy always gives me pumpkin juice," he complained and Harry smiled. The relaxant was kicking in. He stretched himself out, and retrieved a goblet of pumpkin juice from the school itself, moving to assist Snape to drink it. The familiar goblet reassured his professor better than words would, and the retrieval was a sort of 'warm up' for the effort he was about to undertake.

"Heggerty is leaving," Snape announced once the juice was gone, a slight slur to his normally precise diction, "That werewolf is returning to the school."

"He's not a werewolf," Harry said mildly, running his wand over Snape's chest, "He's a night wolf."

"Your spell," Snape mumbled, "Doesn't change the fact that he's a wolf."

"Well, no," Harry agreed, pleased with the results of his spell, "I can't take the werewolf out without killing him, so I altered his curse so he would change into a normal wolf. The change is at his command and a lot less painful."

"But only at night," Snape reminded him of his failure, and Harry acknowledged it with a nod. He hadn't been able to alter the curse completely, and to try could have been fatal to Moony. The night wolf spell was something that other Healers with sufficient training could cast, though it took a lot of magical energy. For the first time, there was a way for werewolves to manage their condition with Snape's potion until Harry's spell could make them safe for the public. The curse could never be lifted, but with the night wolf spell, they would be able to hold a job free of the stigma and safe from legislation that had once ruined their lives.

Harry sent a sleep spell at his former Potion Master and then moved to stand beside his legs. He gathered his energy and focussed it into his hands before sending himself into the twisted tissue and fragile bones that hid beneath the surprisingly hairy and knobbly knees. He worked slowly and meticulously, aware of Holmes on the peripheral, monitoring both Harry and the patient he laboured over.

The magic released itself with a rush and Harry staggered back, the orderly catching him, as was his job. He let the man hold him up for a moment while he got his breath back and then straightened, thanking him with a smile and softly spoken word. They'd never been able to teach Harry to hold a part of himself in reserve when he was healing in this manner, he'd had to explain time and again that it wasn't the way his magic worked, so the hospital had learned to have someone on hand to catch him when he stumbled.

"Perfect," Holmes nodded as the diagnostic spell faded, "The damage is gone as if it never was. Well done Potter."

0o0o0o0

The Headmaster looked up as the castle whispered in his ear and smiled. The usual sea of bright young faces were smiling back at him, and he reached over to take his partners hand, knowing that what the castle had picked up was something the other man would want to hear. This sort of magic was a lot easier after more than a hundred years together - they barely had to speak to know each other's thoughts now. It creeped the staff out sometimes.

"Drew! Drew! Look over there!" the Ravenclaw first year was nudging her tablemate enthusiastically, pointing not quite subtly at the head table. The staff were arrayed along it as usual. Harry had been sad to see so few people that had taught him still in service to the school. Snape had been Headmaster and took Harry on as Charms Master when Flitwick's successor retired. Ron had taken the place of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at the same time, and they shared quarters in the school. When Snape retired, Harry had been his recommendation for successor, something that had surprised the former Boy Who Lived no end.

"What is it, Teresa?" Drew asked, withdrawing his gaze from the food that had appeared in front of him after the Sorting. There had been a larger than usual intake this year, and the House tables had been expanded as a result. This was a good sign, as it meant that the Wizarding world was flourishing after nearly six decades of rival Dark Lords and Evil Wizards.

"Look, that's Ronald Weasley!" Teresa bounced in her seat and the Headmaster felt his partner's hand squeeze his in surprise. He chuckled and was shushed indignantly. As their life together had progressed, Ron's deeds had come to rival those of Harry, and the vital loving man that sat beside him never tired of the recognition that came with that. He was welcome to it - Harry avoided the spotlight like the plague, and always had done. He was looking forward to their retirement in ten years time, when the two of them could once more devote their time and energy solely to each other as they travelled in their bus.

"Who?" Drew looked along the staff table while Teresa rolled her eyes in disbelief. He stroked Ron's fingers lightly, waiting to hear what the girl would say to describe his life's mate. Harry could come up with a thousand books filled with words to describe Ron, most of which his friend would dismiss as 'mush'. Ron was always accusing Harry of being the mushy one, and only allowed him free reign in bed.

"Sitting next to the Headmaster," Teresa directed, "And he's only the greatest Auror of our time. He led the international squads for years, and it was him who defeated Styr at Stonehenge. He set up the cross species auror squads and pioneered the civilian consultancy system that we use today. He's really wicked!"

"Yes he is," Harry smiled at his beloved, and Ron grinned back.

_The End, The End!_

_There ain't no more..._

_That's all she wrote..._

_There's no encore!_

But the good news is I'm half way through my next idea! See ya later!


End file.
